LODGES  IN  THE 
WILDERNESS 

BY  W.  C.  SCULLY 


-^ 


HERBERT   JENKINS'    INDIAN 
AND   COLONIAL  LIBRARY 


LODGES 

IN 

THE 

WILDERNESS 


BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR 

POEMS 

KAFIR  STORIES 

BY  VELD  AND   KOPJE 

THE   WHITE   HECATOMB 

BETWEEN  SUN  AND  SAND 

A  VENDETTA   OF  THE   DESERT 

THE      RIDGE     OF      THE      WHITE 
WATERS 

REMINISCENCES     OF     A     SOUTH 
AFRICAN  PIONEER 

FURTHUR  REMINISCENCES  OF  A 
SOUTH  AFRICAN  PIONEER 


LODGES  IN  THE 
::  WILDERNESS:: 


BY 
W.    C.    SCULLY 


HERBERT  JENKINS  LIMITED 
ARUNDEL  PLACE  HAYMARKET 
LONDON  S.W.  $  $  MCMXV 


EDINBURGH  :    AT  THE  MIRCAT  PRESS 


Stack 
Annex 

3>T 


TO  THE 

RIGHT   HONOURABLE  VISCOUNT   BRYCE,  O.M., 
THIS  BOOK  IS   INSCRIBED 


A  land  of  deathful  sleep,  where  fitful  dreams 

Of  hurrying  Spring  scarce  wake  swift-fading  flowers  ; 
A  land  of  fleckless  sky  and  sheer-shed  beams 

Of  sun  and  stars  through  day's  and  dark' s  slow  hours; 
A  land  where  dust  has  choked  once-fluent  streams — 

Where  grass/ess  plains  lie  girt  by  granite  towers 
That  fright  the  swift  and  heaven-nurtured  teams 

Of  winds  that  guide  afar  the  sea-gleaned  showers. 

The  wild  Atlantic,  fretted  by  the  breath 

Of  fiery  gales  o'er  leagues  of  desert  sped, 
Rolls  back  and  wreaks  in  surf  its  thunderous  wrath 

On  rocks  that  down  the  wan,  wide  shore  are  spread. 
The  waves  for  ever  roar  a  song  of  death; 

The  land  they  roar  to  is  for  ever  dead. 


NOTE 

THE  journeys  to  which  the  following  chapters 
relate  were  undertaken  in  the  Nineties  by  the 
author  when  Special  Magistrate  for  the  Nor- 
thern Border  of  the  Cape  Colony, — an  office 
of  which  he  was  the  last  incumbent,  and  which 
has  since  lapsed. 

Port  Elizabeth, 

South  Africa, 
June  1914. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

CHAPTER   I 
The  Bushmanland  Desert — Its  Nature  and  Extent 

— Desert  Travelling — The  '  Toa '  .         .         .       17 

CHAPTER   II 

Andries  Esterhuizen — Silverfontein — The  Koe- 
kerboom  —  Gamoep  —  Sand  Grouse  —  Our 
Horses — Kanxas — Night  in  the  Desert — 
Dawn — Heat — The  Mirage — Bantom  Berg — 
The  Dune  Monster — The  Flight  of  the  Oxen  24 

CHAPTER   III 

The  Search  for  Meat — Death  of  the  Oryx — The 
Flank  of  the  Dune — Outwitting  a  Jackal — 
Hendrick,  my  Guardian — Thirst — The  Dis- 
tant Rain — Typhon — The  Southern  Simoom  41 

CHAPTER   IV 
A  Walk  in  Darkness — Dreams  of  a  Morning — 

The  Scherm — The  Slaying  of  the  Ostrich     .       58 

CHAPTER   V 

The  Kanya — The  Spell  of  the  Desert — My  Horse 
— The  Terror  of  Noon — Execution  of  a 
Marauder 78 

CHAPTER  VI 

Homeward  Bound — Faces  Around  the  Fire — The 
Bushmen — Piet  Noona  and  the  Snake — The 
Love  of  the  Desert — My  Prehistoric  Uncle 
and  Aunt — Scruples — The  Hunter's  Instinct  97 


xiv  CONTENTS 

PAGR 

CHAPTER  VII 

The  Springbuck  Drive — The  Bushman  Caves—     117 
Return  to  Gamoep        .... 

CHAPTER  VIII 

The  Summer  Clouds — News  of  Rain — Start  for 
Pella  — The  Vedic  Hymns  —  Digging  for 
Water — Arrival  at  Pella — Terrible  Heat— 
The  Tribe — Aquinas  in  the  Wilderness — The 
Mission — The  River  Gorge — The  Tarantula 
Invasion •  134 

CHAPTER   IX 

Morning  in  the  Gorge — Departure  from  Pella — 
Journey  to  Brabies — Protection  of  the  Oryx 
— Its  Peculiarities — Antelopes  of  the  Desert 
and  the  Forest — Camping  at  Brabies  .  .  155 

CHAPTER  X 
The  Oryx  Hunt — Terrible    Thirst — Prehistoric 

Weapons 165 

CHAPTER  XI 

The  Richtersveld — Kuboos — The  Vicar  of  Wake- 
field  Redivivus— Gold-seeking — The  Raad — 
Morbid  Sensibility — Start  for  El  Dorado  .  180 

CHAPTER  XII 

Expedition  to  the  River — Flora  and  Fauna — The 
Pneumoras  —  Abnormal  Springbuck  —  The 
Sea-fog — Wild  Horses — Fauna  and  Bimini  .  203 

CHAPTER  XIII 

Kamiebies — The  Blossoming  Wilderness — The 
Ostrich  Poachers  — •  Hail  Storms  —  The 
Springbuck  Behind  the  Dune — How  Andries 
Found  Me 228 

L'Enyoi        ,.,,,...     249 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

THE  SHIP  OF  THE  DESERT  -  Frontispiece 

TO  FACE  PA«« 

THE  OSTRICH  AT  HOME     -  70 

WHERE  THE  IRON  MOUNTAINS  LIKE  A  LEASH  OF 
BLACK  PANTHERS  SPRING  FROM  THE  DESERT'S 
NORTHERN  MARGE  134 

ORYX  RESTING  AT  NOONDAY  -    166 


The  above  are  reproduced  from   water-colour  drawings 
by  A.  W.  Standen. 


LODGES 

IN 

THE 

WILDERNESS 


LODGES    IN   THE 
WILDERNESS 


CHAPTER    I 

THE    BUSHMANLAND  DESERT  —  ITS  NATURE   AND   EXTENT  — 
DESERT  TRAVELLING  -  THE  ' 


THE  world  moves  rapidly  and  with  in- 
creasing momentum.  Even  regions 
remote  from  those  communities  which 
the  stress  of  increasing  population  and  the 
curse  of  unleisured  industrialism  send  spin- 
ning "  down  the  ringing  grooves  of  change," 
are  often  so  disturbed  or  overwhelmed  by  the 
overflow  of  what  threatens  to  be  an  almost 
world-wide  current  of  morbid  energy,  that 
within  a  strangely  short  period  their  character 
is  apt  completely  to  alter  and  their  individu- 
ality to  become  utterly  destroyed. 

I  do  not  know  how  the  Great  Bushmanland 
Desert  has  fared  in  this  respect  —  not  having 
visited  it  for  several  years  —  but  if  some  un- 
likely combination  of  circumstances  were  to 
take  me  once  more  to  Aroegas  or  Koisabies,  — 


i8     LODGES  IN   THE  WILDERNESS 

to  the  tiny  spring  of  living  water  that  trickles 
from  the  depths  and  lies  like  a  precious  jewel 
hidden  in  the  dark,  narrow  cavern  at  Inkruip, 
— or  to  where  the  flaming,  red-belted  cone  of 
Bantom  Berg  glares  over  the  dragon-folds  of 
the  dune-devil  sprawling  at  its  feet,  I  should 
go  in  fear  of  finding  empty  sardine-tins  and 
broken  bottles  lying  among  the  fragments  of 
prehistoric  pottery  and  flint  implements  which 
were  but  recently  the  only  traces  of  man  to  be 
found  in  those  abodes  of  solitude. 

The  Bushmanland  Desert  is  but  little  known. 
A  few  nomads — some  of  European  and  some 
of  mixed  descent — hang  on  its  fringe.  Here 
and  there  ephemeral  mat-house  villages,  whose 
dwellers  are  dependent  on  the  sparse  and  un- 
certain bounty  of  the  sky,  will,  perhaps,  be 
found  for  a  season.  But  when  the  greedy  sun 
has  reclaimed  the  last  drop  of  moisture  from 
shallow  "  pan "  or  sand-choked  rock-saucer, 
the  mat-houses  are  folded  up  and,  like  the 
Arabs,  these  dwellers  steal  silently  away  from 
the  blighting  visage  of  the  Thirst  King.  But 
the  greater  portion  of  Bushmanland  may  be 
ranked  among  the  most  complete  solitudes  of 
the  earth.  The  lion,  the  rhinoceros,  and,  in 
fact,  most  of  the  larger  indigenous  fauna  have 
disappeared  from  it — with  the  autochthonous 


BUSHMANLAND  19 

pygmy  human  inhabitants;  nevertheless  it  is  a 
region  full  of  varied  and  distinctive  interest. 
The  landscape  consists  either  of  vast  plains, 
mirage-haunted  and  as  level  as  the  sea, — arid 
mountain  ranges — usually  mere  piles  of  naked 
rock,  or  immense  sand-dunes,  massed  and  con- 
voluted. The  latter  often  change  their  form 
and  occasionally  their  location  under  stress  of 
the  violent  winds  which  sweep  down  from  the 
torrid  north. 

The  tract  is  an  extensive  one,  probably  up- 
wards of  50,000  square  miles  lie  within  its 
limits.  It  is  bounded  on  the  north  by  the 
Gariep  or  Orange  River — but  as  that  flows 
and  eddies  at  the  bottom  of  a  tremendous 
gorge  which  is  cut  off  from  the  plains  by  a 
lofty,  stark  range  of  mountains, — coal-black 
in  colour  for  their  greater  extent  and  glowing 
hot  throughout  the  long,  cloudless  day,  the 
traveller  seldom  sees  it.  The  western  bound- 
ary is  the  Atlantic  Ocean;  the  eastern  an 
imaginary  line  drawn  approximately  south 
from  the  Great  Aughrabies  Falls  to  the  Kat 
Kop  Range.  If  we  bisect  this  line  with 
another  drawn  due  east  from  the  coast  to  the 
Lange  Berg,  we  shall  get  a  sufficiently  recognis- 
able boundary  on  the  south.  From  the  tract 
so  defined  must  be  deducted  the  small  area 


20     LODGES   IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

surrounding  the  Copper  Mines,  and  a  narrow 
strip  of  mountain  land  running  parallel  with, 
and  about  sixty  miles  from  the  coast.  This 
strip  is  sparsely  inhabited  by  European  far- 
mers. 

The  occasional  traversing  of  this  vast  tract 
lay  within  the  scope  of  my  official  duties.  My 
invariable  travelling  companion  was  Field 
Cornet  Andries  Esterhuizen  (of  whom  more 
anon)  and  a  small  retinue  of  police,  drivers,  and 
after-riders.  We  never  escaped  hardship;  the 
sun  scorched  fiercely  and  the  sand  over  which  we 
tramped  was  often  hot  enough  to  cook  an  egg 
in.  Water,  excepting  the  supply  we  carried 
with  us,  was  as  a  rule  unobtainable;  conse- 
quently we  had  to  eschew  washing  completely. 
We  often  had  to  travel  by  night  so  as  to  spare 
the  oxen,  and  as  the  water-casks  usually  almost 
filled  the  wagon,  we  then  had  to  tramp,  vainly 
longing  for  sleep,  through  long,  weary  hours, 
from  sunset  to  sunrise.  And  after  the  sun  had 
arisen  the  heat,  as  a  rule,  made  sleep  impos- 
sible. 

It  was  to  the  more  inaccessible — and  there- 
fore comparatively  inviolate — expanses  of  this 
wilderness  that  I  was  always  tempted  to  pene- 
trate. Therein  were  to  be  found  a  scanty  flora 
and  a  fauna — each  unusual  and  distinctive, — 


FLOWERS  OF  THE  DESERT      21 

composed  of  hardy  organisms,  which  an  ap- 
prenticeship from  days  unthinkably  ancient 
had  habituated  to  their  most  difficult  condi- 
tions of  existence.  If,  somewhere  near  the 
margin  of  the  great  central  plain,  we  happened 
to  cross  the  track  of  a  vagrant  thunder-storm, 
we  would  see  myriads  of  delicately-petalled 
blossoms  miraculously  surviving,  like  the 
Faithful  Rulers  of  Babylon  in  the  Fiery 
Furnace.  On  the  flank  of  some  flaming  sand- 
dune  we  would  find  the  tulip-like  blooms  of 
the  Gethyllis  flourishing  in  leafless  splendour. 
Their  corollas  were  of  crystalline  white 
splashed  with  vivid  crimson;  deep  in  each 
goblet  lay  the  clustered  anthers, — a  convoluted 
mass  of  glowing  gold.  Is  this  flower  a  grail, 
bearing  beauty  too  ineffable  to  die,  through  an 
arid  aeon  from  one  cycle  of  fertility  to  another? 
Sometimes  our  course  led  over  tracts  of  sand 
—sand  so  light  and  powdery  that  the  foot  sank 
into  it  ankle-deep  at  every  step.  Occasionally 
we  crossed  high,  abrupt  ridges  of  black  or 
chocolate-hued  rock,  separated  from  each 
other  by  gorges  so  deep  that  except  at  noon- 
tide, no  sunbeam  penetrated  them.  But 
usually  our  course  lay  across  plains,  infinite 
in  extent.  In  the  Summer  season  such  were 
covered  with  heavy-headed  shocks  of  "toa" 


22     LODGES   IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

grass, — yellow  or  light  green  in  hue,  according 
to  the  more  or  less  scanty  rainfall.  But  in 
Winter  all  the  waving  plumes  crumbled  away, 
leaving  the  bases  of  the  tussocks  as  black  as 
pitch.  Where  the  hills  and  the  plains  met, 
stood  groves  of  immense  dragon  aloes — some 
cumbered  with  nests  of  the  sociable  grossbeak 
— each  as  large  as  a  hayrick. 

The  lordly  oryx  crossed  our  path;  the  un- 
gainly hartebeest  lumbered  away  to  windward 
at  a  pace  which  made  pursuit  hopeless;  the 
gazelles  of  the  desert  fled  before  us  like  thistle- 
down borne  on  an  eddying  wind.  The  roofs  of 
many  a  city  of  desert  mice  sank  beneath  our 
footsteps  and  the  horned  adder  hissed  defiance 
at  our  caravan  from  his  home  at  the  tussock's 
base.  We  crossed  the  zig-zag  track  made  by 
the  yellow  cobra  when  prowling  in  the  dark- 
ness. The  plumed  ostrich  scudded  away  at 
our  approach,  the  great  bustard  of  the  Kalihari 
spread  his  powerful  wings  and  flew  forth 
heavily  until  he  almost  crossed  the  horizon, 
and  the  "  kapok  vogeltje,"  no  bigger  than  a 
wren,  twittered  at  us  from  his  seat  of  cunning 
on  the  outside  of  the  simulated  snowball  which 
is  his  nest. 

We  did  not  fear  the  poisoned  arrows  of  the 
Bushmen,  for  that  strange  race  which  formerly 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  BUSHMEN     23 

occupied  the  scenes  of  our  wanderings  had 
long-since  disappeared  from  the  face  of  the 
earth.  Within  the  wide  bounds  of  that  tract 
to  which  the  Bushman  gave  his  name,  there 
existed  but  two  individuals  of  his  race, — an 
old,  withered,  toothless  man,  and  a  bent  and 
ancient  crone.  These  wraiths,  who  subsisted 
on  roots,  reptiles  and  insects,  still  haunted  the 
mountains  near  Dabienoras,  and  levied  a  kind 
of  toll  on  the  very  occasional  traveller.  This 
took  the  form  of  a  trifling  contribution  of 
tobacco  and  sugar. 


CHAPTER  II 

ANDRIES  ESTERHUIZEN  —  SILVERFONTEIN  —  THE  KOEKER- 
BOOM  —  GAMOEP  —  SAND  GROUSE  —  OUR  HORSES  — 
KANXAS — NIGHT  IN  THE  DESERT— 'DAWN — HEAT — 
THE  MIRAGE — BANTOM  BERG — THE  DUNE  MONSTER 
THE  FLIGHT  OF  THE  OXEN. 

ANDRIES  Esterhuizen  had  lived 
all  his  life  on  the  fringe  of  Bush- 
manland.  His  farm,  Silverfontein, 
which  lay  a  little  more  than  twenty  miles 
from  the  Ookiep  Mines,  had  been  for 
many  years  the  principal  jumping-off  place 
for  expeditions  to  the  desert.  Andries  was  a 
Field  Cornet, — an  office  which  empowered  him 
to  arrest  offenders  against  the  law.  He  was  a 
typical  Boer  of  the  better  class.  Large-boned 
and  tall,  his  increased  bulk  had  for  several 
years  prevented  his  doing  that  which  his 
soud  loved  above  all  else, — riding  down  a  herd 
of  oryx.  His  blue,  laughing  eyes  shone  from  a 
ruddy  face.  His  brown  beard  was  streaked 
with  grey.  His  great  fist  could  have  felled 
an  ox ;  the  tempest  of  his  laughter  was  like  the 
neighing  of  war-steeds. 


A  SUPREME  MONARCH          25 

Andries  sent  his  ox-wagon  to  fetch  my  guns 
and  baggage.  Next  day  I  followed  in  a  cart 
drawn  by  four  strong  horses,  for  heavy 
stretches  of  sand  had  to  be  crossed  before 
reaching  Silverfontein. 

On  arrival  there  I  met  with  a  hearty  wel- 
come. The  wagon  stood,  fully  packed,  before 
the  farm-house  door.  The  heaviest  and  most 
important  item  of  the  load  was  three  casks  of 
water,  for  we  were  about  to  enter  and  encamp 
in  the  deadly  dune-veld  where  Thirst  is  a  king 
who  has  reigned  supreme  since  the  world  was 
young.  We  meant  to  storm  his  strong  city  and 
occupy  it  for  a  season, — well  knowing,  how- 
ever, that  we  should  soon  have  to  retire,  leaving 
his  ancient  realm  unconquered  and  unspoiled. 
As  we  did  not  mean  to  be  luxurious,  our  com- 
missariat list  only  included  coffee,  sugar,  salt 
and  "  Boer-biscuits  "  (a  kind  of  coarse  but  ex- 
ceedingly palatable  rusk).  Of  these  Mrs. 
Esterhuizen  had  manufactured  enough  to  fill 
three  immense  linen  sacks.  For  meat  we 
should  have  to  depend  upon  our  guns. 

The  country  surrounding  Silverfontein  was 
xvild  and  rugged.  Long,  dyked  ridges,  foam- 
tipped  with  snow-white  quartzite  rocks, 
stretched  away  to  infinity,  north  and  south; 
here  and  there  a  naked  granite  finger  pointed 


26     LODGES   IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

to  the  cloudless  sky.  On  the  western  side 
these  ridges  seemed  to  break  like  waves 
against  the  enormous  bronze-hued  bastions  of 
the  Kamiesbergen ;  on  the  eastward  they  sank 
by  degrees  into  the  ocean-like  expanse  of  the 
desert. 

Huddled  in  irregular  patches  where  the 
dykes  sprang  from  the  red  sand  were  the 
"  koekerboome  "  ("quiver-trees," — so  called 
because  the  Bushmen  used  pithed  sections  of 
the  boughs  as  receptacles  for  their  arrows.) 
These  were  gigantic  aloes  of  archaic  form  and 
immense  age.  As  a  rule  their  height  was  from 
fifteen  to  twenty  feet.  Their  ungainly  trunks 
were  cone-shaped,  groined  and  heavily  but- 
tressed. The  rosette-crowned  ends  of  their 
dichotomous  branches  collectively  formed  a 
more  or  less  irregular  oval.  But  at  one  spot, 
as  we  crossed  the  line  where  the  hills  ended 
and  the  plains  began,  we  noticed  some  with 
smooth,  slender,  white  boles  rising  to  a  height 
of  nearly  sixty  feet, — each  crowned  with  a 
single  cup-like  whorl  of  leaves. 

Gamoep,  where  the  last  water  was  to  be 
found,  lay  on  the  actual  edge  of  the  level 
desert  some  distance  to  the  south-east  of 
Silverfontein.  To  reach  it  involved  a  long 
day's  trek,  for  the  route  was  through  soft  sand. 


THE  WATER  HOLE  27 

At  Gamoep  was  a  permanent  spring, — the 
water  of  which,  although  fit  for  animals,  was 
not  quite  suitable  for  human  consumption. 
Alongside  the  pool  which  the  spring  feeds  we 
decided  to  rest  for  twenty-four  hours,  for  the 
oxen  had  a  heavy  strain  to  undergo  and  we  felt 
it  necessary  to  cover  as  much  as  possible  of  the 
first  part  of  our  journey  during  the  cool  hours 
of  night. 

We  slept  soundly  after  our  long  tramp. 
Next  morning,  as  the  sun  began  to  soar,  sand- 
grouse  in  flock's  of  almost  incredible  numbers 
came  sweeping  in  from  the  desert.  The 
weaned  birds  alighted  a  few  hundred  yards 
from  the  pool,  and  there  rested  for  about  ten 
minutes.  Then  they  arose,  swooped  down  to 
the  edge  of  the  pool  for  a  hurried  sip,  and  sped 
back  whence  they  came.  We  shot  sufficient  of 
these  for  our  immediate  needs. 

Late  in  the  afternoon,  when  the  sting  had 
gone  out  of  the  sunshine,  we  drove  the  oxen 
to  the  pool  and  let  them  drink  their  fill.  We 
had  brought  two  horses — my  old  hunting- 
horse,  "  Prince,"  and  another  "  Swaitland,"  re- 
named "  Bucephalus,"  for  Hendrick,  my  after- 
rider.  But  the  horses  had  to  remain  for  the 
present  at  Gamoep,  in  charge  of  Danster,  one 
of  our  Hottentots.  Piet  Noona,  another  Hot- 


28    LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

tentot,  and  his  nephew, — a  lad  of  about  twelve 
years  of  age,  were  also  left  behind  for  the  pur- 
pose of  taking  charge  of  the  oxen  when  they 
returned,  maddened  with  thirst,  after  being  re- 
leased from  the  yoke  at  the  camping-place 
under  Bantom  Berg  and  the  Great  Dune,  which 
was  our  objective. 

Shortly  before  sundown  we  inspanned  and 
made  a  start,  shaping  our  course  north-east. 
Soon  we  had  crossed  the  last  rocky  ridge, — the 
boundary  separating  the  hilly  country  from  the 
plains.  The  latter  were  covered  with  the 
shock-bearing  tussocks  of  "  toa," — waving 
plumes  at  that  time  bleached  to  a  light  yellow 
by  the  ardours  of  the  summer  sun.  We  passed 
the  head  of  the  Kanxas  Gorge, — a  miniature 
canyon  whose  rocky,  perpendicular  sides  con- 
tained caves  which  had  been  until  a  compara- 
tively recent  date  occupied  by  Bushmen.  The 
walls  of  these  caves  shew  records  of  their 
former  inhabitants  in  the  form  of  black-pig- 
mented  script.  This  consists  mainly  of  groups 
of  short,  parallel  lines  crossed  at  various  angles 
by  lines  similar.  But  neither  here  nor  in  aNny 
of  the  haunts  of  the  now-vanished  Bushmen  I 
have  visited  in  the  north-western  areas  of  the 
Cape  Province,  have  I  seen  paintings  of  men 
and  animals  such  as  are  to  be  found  in  other 


THE  COMING  OF   NIGHT        29 

parts  of  South  Africa.  A  spring  had  existed  at 
Kanxas  within  the  memory  of  living  Trek 
Boers.  Of  this  no  vestige  then  remained. 
Herein  lies  an  additional  item  of  evidence 
pointing  to  the  ominous  conclusion  that  South 
Africa  is  slowly  but  surely  drying  up. 

Night  fell ;  the  primrose-yellow  of  the  "  toa  " 
faded  to  ghostly  white;  not  a  breath  of  wind 
stirred.  Excepting  the  creak,  creak,  of  the 
straining  yokes  not  a  sound  was  audible.  Day 
faded  from  the  sky  and  the  cupola  of  stars 
seemed  to  descend  around  us  like  a  curtain. 
We  walked  apart  and  communed  with  our  in- 
dividual selves.  When  by  night  one  enters 
the  door  of  the  desert  speech  seems  banal  and 
incongruous. 

At  about  midnight  we  outspanned.  The 
oxen  were,  however,  kept  tied  to  the  yokes; 
we  meant  to  take  but  an  hour's  rest.  The 
patient  cattle  laid  themselves  down  at  once; 
an  occasional  long-drawn  sigh  being  the  only 
evidence  of  their  existence.  Anon  the  flame  of 
our  candle-bush  fire  ascended  into  the  windless 
air, — straight  as  a  column.  Coffee  was  soon 
ready  and  biscuits  distributed.  After  we  had 
eaten  and  drunk,  pipes  were  lit.  Then  we  threw 
ourselves  prone  on  the  sand  and  gazed,  wrapt, 
into  the  glittering  folds  of  the  star-curtain. 


3o     LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

How  unutterably  still  it  was;  how  ineffably 
peaceful.  The  spell  of  silence  still  sealed  our 
lips.  The  world  of  men — with  its  fierce  and 
futile  struggles,  its  crowded  and  ever-changing 
illusions,  seemed  but  a  dream.  Could  it  be 
that  in  other  regions  of  that  earth,  which  there 
seemed  so  austere,  so  sinless  and  so  ordered, 
men  were  struggling  in  warren-like  cities? 
For  that  night,  however,  the  desert  was  the 
only  reality;  there  we  seemed  to  have  attained 
Nirvana. 

The  hour  of  rest  soon  came  to  an  end ;  once 
more  the  oxen  were  yoked  and  our  wagon 
lumbered  on.  There  was  no  longer  a  track 
to  guide  us;  our  wheels  drew  a  double-furrow 
through  soil  that  had  never  groaned  to  the 
share  of  a  plough  forged  by  mortal  hands,— 
that  will  never  yield  a  crop  sown  by  man. 
There  were  no  dangers  to  dread  but  snakes ;  no 
obstacles  to  avoid — except  an  occasional  tract, 
ten  to  fifteen  yards  in  diameter,  which  had  been 
undermined  by  desert  mice.  Through  the 
crust  of  such  a  tract  the  wagon  would  have 
sunk  to  the  axles ;  accordingly  a  Hottentot  was 
detailed  to  walk  a  few  yards  ahead  and  give 
notice  of  the  fact  should  a  mouse-city  lie  in  our 
course.  We  steered  neither  by  the  compass 
nor  the  stars,  not  yet  by  any  landmark.  It  was 


MOONLIGHT  IN  THE  DESERT    31 

the  instinct  of  Andries  and  his  desert-bred 
servants, — that  "  sense  of  direction  "  possessed 
by  men  whose  perceptions  have  not  been  de- 
stroyed by  civilisation, — which  enabled  them 
to  steer  us,  straight  as  an  arrow,  towards  an 
unseen  objective  we  should  only  reach  two 
days  later. 

A  pallid  gleam  shot  through  the  eastern  sky ; 
the  stars  grew  faint;  over  the  blue  firmament 
stole,  as  it  were,  a  sheen  of  pearl.  Soon  the 
rising  moon  touched  the  horizon's  rim;  as  we 
gazed  she  soared  above  it.  By  the  first  touch 
of  her  level  beam-wand,  fairy-land  was 
created;  the  plains,  sombre  since  daylight  had 
departed,  became  ivory-white  to  eastward; 
across  their  immensity  extended  a  broad  strip 
of  silver.  This  was  due  to  the  sheen  of  the 
new  moonlight  on  the  dew-wet  plumes  arising 
from  the  "  toa  "  tussocks. 

As  night  wore  slowly  on  the  deep  sand  be- 
came a  weariness.  Sleep  grew  importunate;  her 
fingers  pressed  down  our  eyelids  and  the  folds 
of  her  trailing  robe  entangled  our  lead-shod 
feet.  The  moon,  after  her  first  majestic  soar 
above  the  horizon,  seemed  to  climb  slower  and 
more  slowly  towards  the  zenith.  It  would  have 
been  a  luxury  to  fall  prone  on  the  velvet-soft 
sand  and  sink  at  once  into  dreamless  oblivion. 


32     LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

But  this  might  not  be ;  our  plan  of  campaign 
had  been  cunningly  devised  and  had  to  be 
strictly  adhered  to.  We  were  about  to  contend 
with  an  enemy  who  gave  no  quarter.  The  fiat 
of  Andries  had  gone  forth;  we  were  to  travel 
on  without  pause  until  sunrise.  Then  we 
might  sleep  if  the  sun  permitted. 

At  length  the  seemingly  interminable  night 
ended:  "the  phantom  of  false  morning,' 
which  so  often  had  mocked  us,  gave  place  to 
dawn — virginal  and  splendid.  Then  day  came 
on  rapid  feet.  Just  as  the  sun  cleared  the  rim 
of  the  earth  the  wagon  halted,  and  at  once  the 
yokes  fell  from  the  necks  of  the  tired  oxen. 
Within  a  few  minutes  we  lay  fast  asleep 
beneath  a  hastily-constructed  sun-screen. 

Scarcely  more  than  an  hour  had  elapsed 
before  the  heat  awoke  us  and  we  sprang  to 
our  feet  with  hardly  a  trace  of  fatigue.  The 
strong  sunshine  seemed  to  sting  us  to  vigour; 
it  was  aether  rather  than  air  that  we  breathed. 
Around  us  lay  infinite  expanses,  glowing  and 
quivering, — radiating  fervour  against  fervour 
into  the  moveless  atmosphere.  Before  us  and 
to  our  right  and  left  the  horizon  was  unbroken. 
Behind  us  could  still  be  faintly  traced  the 
contour  of  the  hilly  country  from  which  we  had 
yesterday  emerged. 


THE  MIRROR  OF  LIES          33 

The  oxen,  after  feeding  a  little,  wandered 
about — attempting  from  time  to  time  to  escape 
homeward.  They  dreaded  this  plunge  into  the 
waterless  waste.  They  instinctively  antici- 
pated the  heavy  sufferings  to  which  they  were 
doomed.  So  far  they  were  not  painfully 
thirsty ;  cattle  bred  on  the  borders  of  the  desert 
in  their  search  for  pasturage  often  go  volun- 
tarily waterless  for  forty-eight  hours  at  a 
stretch.  Even  in  summer  they  do  not  feel  this 
much  of  an  inconvenience.  Late  in  the  after- 
noon the  team  was  driven  up  and  once  more 
inspanned.  Again  we  pressed  forward  on  our 
course. 

The  heat  was  still  intense ;  we  knew  it  would 
last  until  sundown.  The  primrose-tinted  carpet 
of  the  desert  seemed  to  have  turned  to  flame. 
Before  us  some  mocking  genius  of  the  sky 
painted  mirage-pictures.  Blue  seas  gemmed 
with  verdant  islands,  rocky  beaches  from  which 
sprang  groves  of  lofty  trees, — mountain  ranges 
clothed  with  boskage  and  suggesting  cool 
streams  in  their  valleys — enticed  us  onward. 
Now  and  then  the  pictures  grew  distorted; 
occasionally  they  became  inverted  in  the 
twinkling  of  an  eye.  Then  the  mountains 
stood  poised  upon  their  summits  and  the  trees 
hung  downward.  Perhaps  the  operator  of  the 


34     LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

magic  lantern  which  projected  these  phantasms 
on  the  sky-screen  was  the  vizier  of  the  Thirst 
King — striving  to  lure  the  unwary  to  a  terrible 
doom. 

Although  the  heat  was  so  intense,  we  were 
not  badly  distressed  by  it.  The  thrill  of  the 
unaccustomed  exhilirated  us;  each  breath  we 
drew  was  as  a  draught  of  new  wine.  Interest- 
ing and  unusual  incidents  befel.  Ever  and 
anon  a  troop  of  ostriches  sped  over  the  plains, 
their  white  plumes  outstretched  and  thrilling. 
On  the  right,  arising  from  the  hollow  of  an 
undulation  upwards  of  a  mile  away,  could  be 
seen  a  small  thicket  of  "  black  sticks."  Irregu- 
larly grouped  and  standing  at  various  angles 
they  shewed  clear  and  distinct  through  the 
miraculously  transparent  air.  "  Gemsbokk'e," 
said  Andries,  laconically.  The  bodies  of  the 
oryx  were  out  of  sight ;  nothing  was  visible  but 
their  long  and  almost  straight  horns.  Soon  the 
earth-tremor  betrayed  us,  and  the  thicket  of 
"  black  stick's  "  became  agitated.  It  broke  up, 
scattered  and  reformed  in  smaller  thickets. 
Then  a  herd  of  about  fifty  oryx  swung  at  a 
gallop  out  of  the  hollow  and  sped  up  the  wind, 
leaving  a  long  trail  of  dust  to  mark  its  course. 

Night  fell  again;  again  the  star-curtain  de- 
scended.   At  about  ten  o'clock  we  once  more 


A  WEARY  DAWN  35 

outspanned.  There  was  not  a  breath  of  wind. 
.The  desert  was  vocal  with  unfamiliar  sounds. 
The  weird  cries  of  the  jackal  were  borne  from 
afar  across  the  plains;  the  clucking  lizards 
put  out  their  heads  and  conversed  from  burrow 
to  burrow;  the  plaintive  notes  of  the  night- 
flying  grouse  fell  from  the  sky  like  a  rain  of 
echoes.  Under  the  protecting  wing  of  dark- 
ness the  solitude  became  populous  and  vocal 
with  strange  tongues. 

We  inspanned  after  an  hour's  rest.  The 
longest  and  most  wearying  effort  of  our 
pilgrimage  had  now  to  be  undertaken;  our 
journey's  end  had  to  be  reached  before  the 
yokes  again  were  loosened.  The  night  seemed 
endless;  we  were  spent  from  the  long  travail. 
The  yearning  for  sleep  became  acutely 
painful.  We  swayed  and  staggered  as  we 
followed  the  creaking  wagon. 

Dawn  broke  at  length,  but  we  were  too 
weary,  too  undone  to  enjoy  its  loveliness.  As 
the  light  grew  we  became  aware  of  an  abrupt 
eminence  of  granite  on  our  left  front ;  it  arose, 
in  the  form  of  a  steep  cone,  from  a  monstrous, 
agglomerated  mass  of  copper-tinted,  shapeless 
hummocks.  This  was  Bantom  Berg, — the 
:f  Belted  Mountain," — its  red-cinctured  bulk 
bathed  in  the  first  sunbeams,  its  feet  entangled 


36     LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

in  the  illimitable  coils  of  the  dune-tract.    The 
latter  at  once  seized  and  held  the  attention. 

When  day  had  fully  dissipated  the  faint 
haze  of  morning  we  endeavoured  to  appraise 
the  contours  of  this  gross,  amorphous  entity, 
— for  the  concept  that  it  was  one  and  in- 
divisible had  gradually  but  irresistibly  formed. 
It  grew  more  and  more  enormous;  more  gross 
and  inimical.  Irregular  and  convoluted  ridges 
arose  from  it  here  and  there ;  it  appeared  to  be 
absolutely  bare  of  vegetation.  In  the  centre 
was  piled  a  humped,  bulging  mass ;  out  of  this 
Bantom  Berg  lifted  its  clean-cut  cone  of 
granite, — a  soaring  sphynx  still  waiting  for  the 
carver's  chisel.  Here  and  there  columns  of 
dust — slender  beneath  but  widely  dilating 
above  at  an  enormous  height,  stalked  slowly 
over  the  body  of  the  prone  monster,  marking 
each  the  path  of  a  miniature  whirlwind.  As 
we  drew  near,  the  face  of  the  dune  tract  once 
more  became  indefinite  and  complicated ;  for  a 
time  the  eye  could  not  follow  nor  appraise  its 
details.  But  suddenly  the  thing  explained 
itself;  from  the  central  mass,  the  prostrate 
carcase  of  the  obscene  creature,  a  number  of 
league-long  tentacles,  consisting  of  sand 
dunes,  extended.  These  were  thick  at  the 
base,  but  they  tapered  away  to  nothingness. 


THE  DUNE  MONSTER  37 

Like  a  crouching  spider  or  a  half-huddled 
cuttle-fish  the  monstrosity  sprawled, — its 
talon-tentacles  seeming  to  gather  in  the  plains 
— to  infest  them  like  a  malignant  cancer. 

The  character  of  the  country  we  were 
traversing  had  changed;  again  the  ground 
was  hard  beneath  our  feet;  angular  fragments 
of  limestone  were  strewn  over  its  surface.  It 
was  as  though  the  dune-devil  had  collected  and 
assimilated  the  surface  sand  so  that  its  loathly 
limbs  might  develop.  Inexpressibly  sinister 
was  this  creature, — this  mysterious,  insatiable 
intruder  from  the  desolate  northern  wastes.  It 
seemed  to  be  endowed  with  some  low-graded 
form  of  rudimentary  life ;  otherwise  it  was  hard 
to  account  for  the  definite  and  arbitrary  varia- 
tions in  the  scheme  of  its  southward  advance. 
For  the  tentacles  did  not  all  extend  in  the  same 
direction ;  occasionally  one  curved  in  its  course 
and  developed  against  the  prevailing  wind. 
The  dune-monster  was  the  slow-pacing  steed 
of  the  Thirst  King ;  it  was  his  throne,  his  host 
and  his  strong  city;  it  was  the  abhorrent  body 
of  which  he  was  the  resistless  and  implacable 
soul ! 

Our  camping-place  lay  within  the  curve  of 
one  of  the  tentacles;  it  was  expedient  from 
the  stand-point  of  the  hunter  to  have  the 


38     LODGES   IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

mounded  sand  between  us  and  the  plains — 
thus  affording  concealment.  The  sun  was  high 
when  the  yokes  dropped  once  more.  The  un- 
happy oxen,  now  very  thirsty,  wandered  about 
emitting  low  moans  of  distress.  Their  funda- 
mental instincts  told  them  that  no  water  was 
near;  their  inherited  faith  in  the  wisdom  and 
power  of  man  had,  however,  given  them  the 
thought  that  relief  might  be  provided.  Sud- 
denly, however,  primordial  instinct  gained 
ascendency;  their  minds  were  made  up.  They 
paced,  lowing,  to  the  trail ;  then  advanced 
along  it  at  a  trot.  Soon  the  trot  altered  to  a 
wild  gallop.  To-morrow,  before  noon,  they 
would  charge  down  on  Gamoep — and  woe  to 
man  or  beast  obstructing  their  course.  Red- 
eyed,  and  with  blackened  tongues  extended 
from  roaring,  tortured  throats,  they  would  fling 
themselves  into  the  pool  and  drink  their  fill. 
At  Gamoep  they  would  remain  for  four  restful 
days ;  then  they  would  be  brought  back  to  our 
camp  by  Piet  Noona  and  his  nephew. 

So  at  length  we  were  within  the  dominions  of 
the  Thirst  King — our  gauntlet  thrown  down  at 
the  gates  of  his  wrath;  we  were  almost  within 
the  grasp  of  his  awful  hand.  The  last  link 
with  the  world  inhabited  by  men  snapped  when 
the  hapless  oxen  disappeared  over  the  rim  of 


A  LIVING  DARKNESS  39 

the  desert.  Like  a  water-logged  ship  in  a  tide- 
less  sea — like  a  derelict  among  the  Sargossa 
weeds, — the  wagon  stood  in  the  solitude  and 
silence,  with  the  cloudless  sky  above  and  the 
sun-scorched  earth  beneath — with  the  dune- 
fiend  watching  us  from  his  lair.  It  was  almost 
an  insult  to  the  landscape — this  wood-and- 
canvas  construction  of  man,  hauled  jolting  and 
groaning  across  the  pathless  desert  by  tamed 
and  tortured  beasts.  It  was  a  disfigurement  on 
the  face  of  Solitude, — an  incorporate  insult 
flung  like  a  gage  against  the  ramparts  of  one  of 
Nature's  most  jealously  guarded  fortresses. 

Under  the  shadow  of  the  wagon-sail  we  slept 
throughout  the  day;  the  sun  was  down  before 
we  awoke.  Once  more  night  put  on  the  gar- 
ment of  life.  It  was  a  desert-dweller  who 
wrote  that  the  heavens  declared  the  glory  of 
God;  the  first  astrologer  must  have  had  his 
home  in  the  wilderness.  Over  the  desert  the 
stars,  unfolding  a  glory  not  revealed  else- 
where, descend  like  a  swarm  of  bees  and  seem 
to  busy  themselves  with  destiny. 

Whispers  of  ghostly  voices  close  at  hand, — 
faint  and  far-off  cries, — flutters  of  spectral 
wings — pulsed  through  the  darkness.  In  the 
desert,  the  brighter  the  firmament  at  night,  the 
more  intensely  darkness  seems  to  brood  over 


40    LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

the  earth, — the  more  insistent  becomes  the  idea 
that  one  is  surrounded  by  living  beings,  un- 
human  and  unimaginable. 

Hark !  a  sound  of  sinister  import ;  involun- 
tarily one  sprang  to  grasp  the  rifle  standing 
against  the  wagon-wheel.  But  an  instant's  re- 
flection brought  reassurance;  it  was  but  the 
booming  of  an  ostrich  far  out  on  the  plains  that 
had  conjured  up  scenes  of  other  days, — when 
questing  lions  prowled  around  camp-fires,  now 
long  since  quenched.  The  most  experienced 
ear  can  hardly  distinguish  the  distant  voice  of 
a  lion  from  that  of  an  ostrich.  Here,  however, 
we  might  rest  unscathed  by  beasts  of  prey ;  the 
only  possible  danger  was  from  cobras  and 
horned  adders  which,  being  unable  to  sustain 
the  heat  of  the  earth's  surface  by  day,  remain 
underground  and  emerge  by  night  to  practise 
their  respective  trades. 

Sleep,  sudden  and  imperative,  would  not  be 
denied;  we  had  the  arrears  of  two  wakeful 
nights  to  pay.  Dune,  desert  and  star, — past, 
present  and  future — what  were  they?  Where 
were  they?  Whither  was  the  awakening 
night-wind  bearing  us? 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  SEARCH  FOR  MEAT — DEATH  OF  THE  ORYX — THE 
FLANK  OF  THE  DUNE — OUTWITTING  A  JACKAL  — 
HENDRICK,  MY  GUARDIAN — THIRST — THE  DISTANT 
RAIN — TYPHON — THE  SOUTHERN  SIMOOM. 

DAYBREAK  found  us  sitting  close  to 
the  candle-bush  fire,  for  the  air  of  morn- 
ing was  chill.     Soon  the  kettle  boiled 
and  coffee  was  prepared.     Meat  was  badly 
needed;  we  had  eaten  the  last  of  the  sand- 
grouse  on  the  previous  day,  and  a  diet  of  un- 
relieved rusks  is  apt  to  pall.    So  we  decided  that 
I  was  to  take  my  rifle  and,  accompanied  by  H  end- 
rick,  go  forth  in  search  of  something  to  shoot. 

Hendrick  and  I  shaped  our  course  along 
the  western  flank  of  the  dune-tentacle  close  to 
which  we  were  camped,  meaning  to  cross  it 
near  its  point  of  emergence  from  the  main 
dune.  On  reaching  a  suitable  spot  we  climbed 
to  the  top,  a  height  of  some  twenty  feet  verti- 
cally, and  carefully  scanned  the  plain  on  the 
eastern  side.  The  light  was  yet  faint  and,  as 
we  were  facing  the  east,  otherwise  unfavour- 
able. While  we  lay  prone  a  jackal  shambled 


42      LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

up  the  steep  slope  of  loose  sand  and  met  us, 
face  to  face.  The  creature  regarded  us  with 
quaint  bewilderment  for  a  second,  and  then 
scampered  back  with  a  yelp  of  dismay. 

So  far  as  we  could  ascertain  the  plain  before 
us  was  empty  of  game.  Gloom,  intensified  by 
contrast  with  the  developing  pageant  of  morn- 
ing, still  lurked  among  the  shrubs  and  tussocks. 
In  front,  some  six  hundred  yards  away,  lay 
another  dune  tentacle.  This  did  not,  however, 
extend  in  quite  the  same  direction  as  the  one 
we  occupied,  its  course  being  a  few  degrees 
more  to  the  southward  for  the  greater  length, 
while  the  extremity  curved  slightly  back  to- 
wards us.  The  intervening  space  was  soon 
crossed.  Once  more  we  clambered  up  through 
loose  sand  that  flowed  at  a  touch;  then  we  lay 
prone  on  the  flat  top,  searching  with  expectant 
eyes  the  new  expanse  revealed. 

The  light  had  now  improved;  a  limitless 
plain  opened  to  south  and  east.  Northward, 
the  wind-scourged  side  of  the  main  dune  ex- 
tended like  a  sea-worn  cliff.  The  faint, 
diaphanous  suspicion  of  haze  incidental  to  new- 
born day,  which  lay  film-wise  over  the  yet-unawa- 
kened  desert,  did  not  interfere  with  our  vision. 

A  twenty-foot  elevation  gives  the  eye  an 
immense  range.  Game  was  now  in  sight;  five 


IN  SEARCH  OF  FOOD  43 

separate  groups  of  ostriches  could  be  located. 
These  were  miles  apart, — their  units  varying  in 
number  from  five  to  twenty,  or  thereabouts. 
Away  in  the  dim  distance  southward  some 
large  animals  were  visible ;  they  moved  slowly 
westward.  These  were  almost  certainly  oryx. 
About  six  hundred  yards  off,  straight  before 
us,  was  a  small  herd  of  springbuck;  they  were 
busily  grazing,  moving  to  the  right  as  they 
grazed.  This  circumstance,  combined  with  the 
fact  that  the  oryx  were  moving  in  the  same 
direction,  indicated  that  out  on  the  plains  there 
was  an  air-current  from  westward;  conse- 
quently there  was  some  likelihood  of  the  day 
being  fairly  cool. 

The  springbuck  were  too  far  away  to  fire  at ; 
probabilities  would  have  been  too  much  in 
favour  of  a  miss.  On  foot  in  the  desert, 
missing  one's  shot  meant  that  one's  chances 
of  obtaining  meat  were  practically  at  an  end 
for  the  day.  So  there  was  nothing  for  it  but 
to  wait.  Perhaps  a  paauw  (bustard)  might  feed 
up  to  within  range.  We  had  seen  many 
paauws  on  the  wing  the  previous  day. 

What  most  surprised  us  was  the  number  of 
jackals.  Several  of  these  sneaking  marauders 
were  visible,  loping  here  and  there.  One  ap- 
proached the  springbuck;  a  ram  put  down  his 


44     LODGES  IN  THE  .WILDERNESS 

head  and  charged  straight  at  the  intruder.  The 
latter  fled,  yelping  dolorously.  The  buck,  his 
head  still  lowered,  pursued,  and  gained  easily 
upon  the  fugitive  who,  hard  pressed,  doubled 
over  and  over  again  on  his  devious  course.  At 
length  the  jackal  took  refuge  in  a  burrow,  and 
the  buck  trotted  back  to  join  his  mates,  who 
had  apparently  taken  no  notice  of  the  incident. 

Hendrick  touched  me  slightly  on  the 
shoulder,  and  uttered  a  slow  "  s-s-t."  1 
glanced  to  the  left ;  my  heart  leaped  almost  to 
my  throat.  There,  pacing  towards  us  at  a 
leisurely  stroll,  was  a  lordly  oryx  bull.  He 
was  about  eight  hundred  yards  off;  evidently 
he  had  been  lying  down  with  his  horns  con- 
cealed behind  one  or  other  of  the  bushes  that 
here  and  there  studded  the  plain.  Most  likely 
he  was  a  rogue;  an  old  bull  turned  out  of  the 
herd  on  account  of  his  bad  temper, — or 
possibly  a  leader  deposed  by  a  rival.  However 
that  might  have  been,  he  represented  meat — 
a  commodity  we  were  badly  in  need  of.  Ever 
and  anon  the  oryx  halted  and  gazed  anxiously 
along  the  flank  of  the  dune;  then  he  resumed 
his  advance,  pacing  steadily  on  a  course  which 
should  have  brought  him  to  within  about  two 
hundred  yards  of  our  ambush. 

Nearer  and  nearer  the  bull  approached;  he 


THE  HUNTERS'  SUSPENSE     45 

seemed  to  be  suspicious,  for  his  muzzle  was 
held  high  and  his  large  ears  moved  backward 
and  forward.  Probably  our  camp  had  tainted 
the  air  for  miles  in  every  direction.  '  Tshok- 
ts-hok  "  uttered  a  paauw  which  we  now  noticed 
for  the  first  time.  The  bird  was  sauntering  on  a 
zig-zag  course  and  occasionally  pecking  among 
the  shrubs  just  beneath  us.  Its  approach  was 
from  the  right;  thus  it  was  advancing  towards 
the  oryx.  The  moment  was  a  critical  one; 
should  the  paauw  have  taken  alarm  and  flown, 
the  oryx  would  undoubtedly  have  galloped 
straight  out  towards  the  plains  as  fast  as  his 
strong  legs  could  carry  him.  If,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  paauw  passed  and  remained  unaware 
of  our  presence,  the  oryx  would  have  inferred 
that  the  coast  in  our  direction  was  clear,  and 
accordingly  have  come  unsuspiciously  within 
easy  range.  So  we  lay  as  still  as  mummies, 
Hendrick  and  I, — almost  afraid  to  breathe. 

The  crisis  passed.  The  paauw  was  soon 
well  beyond  us,  and  the  bull,  accelerating  his 
pace  slightly,  advanced  to  his  doom.  O !  you 
of  the  swift  feet,  the  tireless  thews  and  the 
long,  sharp  horns  that  even  the  hungry  lion 
dreaded, — you  had  run  your  last  course,  you 
had  fought  your  last  fight;  the  sands  of  your 
lordly  life  were  running  low  ! 


46     LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

The  great  oryx  bull  was  now  only  about  two 
hundred  and  fifty  yards  off.  Something 
startled  him;  a  whiff  of  tainted  air  stung  his 
sensitive  nostrils.  He  stood  half-facing  us, 
his  right  shoulder  exposed.  My  rifle,  a  long 
Martini,  had  been  trained  on  him  for  some 
seconds,  awaiting  a  favourable  opportunity. 
"  Crack  "—and  the  bull  fell  huddled  on  his 
left  haunch.  He  sprang  up,  but  floundered 
pitifully.  Hendrick  and  I  were  now  over  the 
dune  and  running  towards  him.  As  we  ap- 
proached, his  struggles  ceased;  he  no  longer 
attempted  to  escape.  He  was  standing  on 
three  legs,  for  his  right  shoulder  had  been 
smashed  and  the  limb  dangled  loosely. 

The  bull  was  an  awe-inspiring  sight.  Every 
separate  one  of  the  wire-like  hairs  on  his  neck, 
shoulders  and  hump  stood  erect  and  quivering. 
His  wide  nostrils  shewed  blood-red  in  their 
depths ;  his  eyes  blazed  with  agony  and  wrath ; 
he  swayed  his  forty-inch-long  horns  menac- 
ingly from  side  to  side,  as  though  to  test  their 
poise. 

The  brave  brute  was  evidently  co-ordinating 
his  maimed  but  still  formidable  strength  for  a 
charge  at  his  enemy.  "  Schiet,  Baas — anders 
kom  hij  "  ("  Shoot,  Sir — or  he  will  come  ") 
yelled  Hendrick.  I  had  the  bull  carefully 


A  NOBLE  BEAST  47 

covered,  and  as  he  swayed  forward  in  the  first 
impulse  of  attack,  my  bullet  struck  him  in  the 
middle  of  the  neck  and  crashed  through  the 
vertebral  column.  Then  the  strong,  tense  form 
collapsed  and  sank  impotently  to  earth. 

He  was  a  noble  beast, — this  creature  whose 
life  I  had  wasted.  Why  had  I  done  it?  Be- 
cause I  wanted  meat;  because  I  followed  the 
law  of  my  being  in  obeying  the  hunters'  in- 
stinct,— almost  the  deepest  and  strongest  in 
man.  The  answer  was,  of  course,  not  quite  a 
good  one;  I  felt  it  could  not  be  supported  on 
ethical  grounds.  But  conventional  ethics 
belonged,  after  all,  to  an  environment  I  no 
longer  inhabited.  Where  I  then  lived  and 
moved  and  had  my  being,  the  unmoral  stan- 
dards of  primeval  man  prevailed. 

A  shout  from  the  top  of  the  dune.  It  was 
from  Andries  and  the  others  who,  on  hearing 
the  first  shot,  hurried  over  to  see  what  my 
fortune  had  been.  We  returned  in  triumph  to 
the  wagon,  carrying  the  liver  of  the  slain  oryx. 
This  would  be  roasted  on  the  embers  for  break- 
fast. Hendrick  and  his  assistants  would  see 
to  it  that  the  rest  of  the  meat,  the  head  and 
the  skin  were  removed  and  properly  treated. 
Very  soon  the  carcase  had  been  dismembered 
and  carried  piecemeal  to  the  camp.  After  the 


48     LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

skin  had  been  stretched  out  and  spalked  down 
to  dry  on  the  hot  sand,  we  cut  up  and  slightly 
salted  the  meat,  preparatory  to  its  being 
packed  together  and  rolled  in  sacking.  Next 
day  it  would  be  hung  out  on  lines  to  dry  into 
" bultong."  The  head  was  a  beauty;  the  horns 
measured  41 J  inches.  That  night  the  jackals 
from  far  and  near  would  pick  up  the  scent  and 
prowl,  yonking  and  yowling,  about  the  camp. 
The  less  cowardly  among  them  would  steal  up 
— almost  to  our  very  hearth.  Consequently  we 
should  have  to  avoid  leaving  unprotected  any- 
thing capable  of  being  chewed.  The  jackal  is 
the  Autolycus  of  the  desert. 

In  the  afternoon  I  explored  the  south- 
western flank  of  the  main  dune.  So  light  was 
the  sand  that  in  parts  I  sank  almost  knee-deep. 
Jackals  were  to  be  seen  everywhere;  one  won- 
dered how  such  a  number  could  manage  to 
eke  out  a  livelihood  in  so  barren  a  locality. 
From  one  hollow, — a  cup-shaped  depression 
scooped  out  by  some  recent  wind-eddy,  seven- 
teen of  these  animals  emerged.  They  were  too 
far  away  to  fire  at,  for  I  had  left  my  rifle  in 
camp  and  brought  a  shot-gun.  There  was  no 
other  sign  of  animal  life. 

Fold  upon  fold — utterly,  unspeakably  arid — 
the  flank  of  the  main  dune  sinuated  away  to- 


A  PROWLING  SCOUNDREL      49 

wards  the  north-west.  On  turning  towards  the 
north  the  abomination  of  desolation  grew  more 
abominable  at  every  step,  so  I  altered  my 
course  to  the  left  and  descended  the  steep  side 
of  the  red-hot  dust-heap.  Soon  I  found 
myself  on  the  edge  of  a  plain  lying  between 
two  dune-tentacles  which  were  about  a  mile 
apart.  In  more  or  less  the  centre  of  this  plain 
was  a  small  patch  of  low  scrub,  and  towards 
the  latter  a  single  jackal  was  loping.  He  was 
of  the  "  silver  "  variety ;  consequently  his  pelt 
was  of  value.  I  felt  I  wanted  that  pelt.  The 
only  good  jackal  is  a  dead  jackal.  I  had  no 
qualms  of  conscience  about  taking  this  crea- 
ture's life. 

My  slinking  friend  whose  opulent  coat  of 
silver-striped  fur  I  coveted,  reached  the  little 
patch  of  scrub  and  crouched  down  in  it.  But 
the  bushes  were  so  low  and  sparse  that  I  could 
distinctly  see  his  erect,  pointed  ears.  Now, — 
I  meant  to  have  some  amusement  out  of 
that  marauder,  that  prowling  scoundrel  who 
butchered  young  fawns  and  plundered  the 
nests  of  birds.  So  I  lit  my  pipe  and  strolled, 
—not  towards  the  patch  of  scrub ;  that  would 
have  been  far  too  obvious  a  thing  to  do, — but 
as  though  I  meant  to  pass  it  by  some  distance 
to  the  right.  I  did  pass  it,  but  immediately 


So    LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

afterwards  inclined  my  course  slightly  to  the 
left,  proceeding  in  a  curve.  The  curve  became 
a  spiral ;  I  walked  round  and  round  the  patch 
of  scrub,  gradually  edging  nearer. 

To  look  towards  the  jackal  would  have  been 
to  give  myself  away  absolutely.  My  game  was 
to  pretend  to  be  unaware  that  such  a  thing  as  a 
jackal  existed  in  Bushmanland.  However,  out 
of  the  tail  of  my  left  eye  I  could  just  see  the 
pointed  ears  still  erect;  it  was  clear  that  the 
owner  of  those  ears  was  following  my  move- 
ments with  careful  but  perplexed  attention. 
,Was  it  possible  that  that  villain,  with  all  his 
cunning,  could  have  really  believed  that  I  was 
taking  just  an  ordinary  stroll?  The  fact  was, 
— he  found  himself  face  to  face  with  a  wholly 
unprecedented  situation. 

Of  course  I  recognised  that  all  my  trouble 
might  be  for  nothing;  that  the  jackal  perhaps 
was  sitting  at  the  side  of  a  convenient  burrow, 
ready  to  drop  out  of  sight  at  my  first  suspicious 
gesture.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  were  no 
burrow  available,  my  cunning  friend's 
moments  were  drawing  to  a  tragic  close, — 
his  last  springbuck  fawn  had  been  devoured, 
his  last  smashing  of  ostrich-eggs  perpetrated. 

I  was  now  within  sixty  yards  of  the  jackal; 
still  there  was  no  movement  on  his  part, — 


OUTWITTING  A  JACKAL        51 

except  that  of  the  pointed  ears  which  followed 
the  following  eyes.  The  distance  decreased 
as  the  spiral  drew  in;  the  Lachesis-web  was 
being  spun  fine ;  Atropos  stood  ready  with  her 
shears.  Fifty — forty  yards — now  he  must  be 
very  uneasy  indeed.  There  was  evidently  no 
burrow  available;  otherwise  he  would  long 
since  have  disappeared  into  it.  He  had  never 
seen  anyone  manoeuvre  like  this;  how  he 
wished  he  had  bolted  when  I  first  altered  my 
course.  Thirty — twenty  yards; — that  was 
more  than  he  could  stand.  He  hurled  himself 
forth — only  to  fall,  riddled  by  a  charge  of 
buck-shot. 

Hendrick  came  running  across  the  flat,  his 
face  beaming  with  delight.  There  would  be  joy 
in  the  camp  that  night,  for  jackal-flesh  is  the 
Hottentots'  favourite  delicacy. 

Try  as  I  might,  I  never — in  the  course  of 
my  various  Bushmanland  trips — had  been  able 
to  shake  Hendrick  off,  for  my  friend  Andries 
had  issued  strict  injunctions  that  he  was  never 
to  lose  my  spoor.  So  whenever  I  left  camp, 
Hendrick  made  careful  note  of  the  direction  I 
had  taken  and,  after  an  interval,  followed  me. 
No  notice  was  taken  of  the  protests  I  made 
against  this,  as  a  rule,  wholly  unnecessary 
precaution,  for  Andries  had  a  strong  arm  and 


52     LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

a  sjambok  for  use  when  his  servants  disobeyed 
him.  Westward  of  Gamoep,  Andries  as  a  rule 
did  what  I  told  him  to,  but  in  the  desert  he  was 
an  autocrat,  and  a  severe  one.  I  believe  that  in 
Bushmanland  he  would  have  sjamboked  me  had 
there  been  no  other  way  of  enforcing  his  will. 

Andries  distrusted  my  desert  craft,  making 
no  allowance  for  that  "  sense  of  direction J* 
which  strenuous  wanderings  of  early  years  in 
waste  places  had  developed  in  me.  However, 
hunting  in  the  desert  was  undoubtedly  fraught 
with  danger.  Under  certain  atmospheric  con- 
ditions, if  one  had  suddenly  to  put  forth  exer- 
tion sufficient  to  induce  perspiration,  the  pores 
refused  to  close,  and  moisture  was  drawn  out 
of  the  system  at  such  a  rate  that  to  drink 
presently  or  die  was  the  alternative. 

The  Bushmanland  desert  has  taken  a  heavy 
toll  of  thirst-victims.  Close  to  Agenhuis  I  was 
shewn  a  little  bush  under  which  a  strong  young 
fellow — the  son  of  a  man  I  knew  well, — laid 
himself  down  and  perished  miserably  within  a 
mile  of  his  camp.  The  people  at  Agenhuis 
saw  him  coming  on,  walking  slowly.  He 
turned  out  of  the  track  and  sank  under  a  bush ; 
those  who  watched  him  thought  he  had  paused 
to  take  a  rest.  Wondering  why  he  delayed  so 
long,  his  friends  strolled  over  to  where  he  lay. 


THE  EASTWARD  TREK         53 

The  man  was  dead.  His  tongue  was  blackened 
and  shrunk;  his  lips  and  eyelids  cracked  and 
caked  with  clotted  blood.  This  is  only  one  of 
the  many  dismal  instances  of  people  perishing 
of  thirst  within  short  distances  of  their  camps. 
The  day  died  gloriously.  Far  away  to  east- 
ward a  thunderstorm  trailed  down  from  the 
north,  its  bastions  and  buttresses  snow-white 
or  ebon-black — according  as  to  whether  the 
sunlight  touched  them  or  not.  When  the  last 
level  beams  smote  through  the  banked  masses 
of  vapour,  a  glory  of  rose,  purple  and  gold 
transfigured  the  soaring  turrets.  That  night 
the  firmament  was  clearer  than  ever ;  the  satel- 
lites of  Jupiter  could  actually  be  seen  with  the 
naked  eye.  The  eastern  horizon  was  lit  by 
Aurora-like  lightning, — soft,  lambent  and  in- 
cessant. Eastern  Bushmanland  must  have  been 
drenched.  Even  as  I  watched,  the  spring- 
buck, scattered  over  the  western  desert,  had  no 
doubt  read  the  signal  aright  and  begun  their 
hundred-mile  flitting  towards  the  regions  blest 
with  rain.  Already  the  Trek  Boers  at  Namies 
and  Naramoep  would  be  busy  pulling  down 
their  mat-houses  and  packing  their  wagons  for 
the  trek  eastward.  The  barometer  shewed  a 
heavy  fall ;  this  indicated  unsettled  weather, — 
probably  a  strong  wind  from  the  north. 


54     LODGES   IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

Mute,  ominous  and  black  loomed  the  dune- 
devil.  Who  and  what  was  he,  that  unspeak- 
able entity?  Was  he  not  Typhon,  Lord  of 
Evil  and  Autocrat  of  Desert  Places — that 
monstrous  deity  who  was  cast  forth  from  the 
councils  of  the  Egyptian  gods  on  account  of 
his  unspeakable  iniquities?  Yes, — it  was 
Typhon  and  none  other;  he  wandered  south 
in  search  of  a  kingdom  to  usurp,  and  found  it 
there.  But  the  rain-god,  whose  throne  is  the 
distant  Drakensberg,  stretched  forth  his  silver 
sword,  the  Gariep,  and  ham-strung  the  in- 
truder. Otherwise  the  Kalihari  might  now  be 
stretching  forth  a  hand  to  grasp  TAgulhas,  and 
all  the  African  southland  be  a  waste. 

That  embodied  malignity,  crouched  and 
huddled  beneath  the  sumptuous  stars — what 
unspeakable  outrage  was  his  bestial  and 
inchoate  rudiment  of  a  mind  devising?  Per- 
haps that  day  he  had  sent  a  message  bidding 
his  hag-handmaid,  the  north  wind,  come  and 
help  him  to  destroy  us,  intruders.  There  was 
menace  in  the  air.  The  temperature  had  hardly 
fallen, — as  it  almost  invariably  did  at  night. 

At  daybreak  the  atmosphere  was  tense,  op- 
pressive and  phenomenally  lucid.  Often  the 
desert  dawn  is  followed  by  a  faint  semi- 
opacity;  an  opaline  suggestion  of  vapourised 


THE  LORD  OF  THE  DESERT    55 

moisture, — the  diaphanous  veil  of  evaporated 
dew.  But  on  the  previous  night  no  dew  had 
fallen.  Heaven  had  withheld  that  gracious, 
healing  touch  with  which  it  sometimes  assuaged 
the  scorch  inflicted  by  the  ruthless  sun  on  the 
patient  wilderness. 

The  plains  lay  hushed  as  though  in  an- 
ticipation of  sinister  happenings.  Soon  the 
east  grew  suddenly  splendid;  shafts  of  faint 
gold  and  delicate  rose  spread  from  the  horizon 
half-way  to  the  zenith.  These  were  the  wheel- 
spokes  of  the  still-hidden  chariot  of  the  sun- 
god.  The  flanks  of  Typhon,  the  huddled  shoul- 
ders between  which  his  head  was  sunk,  took  on 
the  hue  of  glowing  bronze.  The  Belted 
Mountain  shone  like  a  bale-fire. 

The  sun  arose;  his  first  beams  smote  like 
the  lash  of  a  whip.  In  the  twinkling  of  an  eye 
the  glamour  of  morning  had  shrunk  and 
shrivelled, — fallen  to  the  dust  and  left  no  more 
trace  than  would  a  broken  bubble.  The  world 
was  now  a  tortured  plain  on  which  the  re- 
doubled wrath  of  the  sky  was  poured  forth. 
Typhon  seemed  to  stir  in  his  sleep, — to  ex- 
pand and  palpitate.  The  reason  of  his  baleful 
and  unbridled  power  was  at  hand.  That  day 
he  would  be  omnipotent  and  unquestioned 
Lord  of  the  Desert. 


56     LODGES   IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

A  faint,  hushing  breath,  less  felt  than  heard, 
touched  us  and  passed  on  over  the  shuddering 
plain.  Its  course  was  from  the  north ;  it  left 
increasing  heat  on  its  track.  Another,  not  so 
faint,  but  definitely  audible, — tangible  as 
flame.  It  was  indeed  the  breath  of  Typhon, 
— the  suspiration  of  his  awakening  fury.  A 
fringe  as  of  erect  russet  hair  plumed  his 
hunched  shoulders.  Here  and  there  immense 
tufts,  like  those  of  a  waving,  quivering  mane, 
were  hurled  aloft;  they  fell  back  in  the  form  of 
cataracts.  Then — like  the  sudden  smoke  of  a 
volcano,  his  loosened  locks  streamed  forth  on 
the  tempest.  Typhon  was  awake  and  had 
arisen  in  his  blighting  wrath. 

His  breath  had  not  yet  reached  us,  but  it  was 
very  near.  His  voice  was  a  penetrating,  sibil- 
lant  hiss,  with  a  moaning  undertone — the 
utterance  of  fury  rendered  inarticulate  by  its 
own  intensity.  Now  the  sand-spouts  which 
had  been  flung  upwards,  rained  on  us  in  fine, 
almost  impalpable  dust,  that  scorched  where 
it  fell.  It  filled  the  air  we  strove  to  breathe; 
it  blinded  and  baffled  us  as  we  vainly  sought 
for  shelter. 

Then  darkness  settled  down  and  the  moan- 
ing undertone  swelled  to  a  roar.  We  crouched 
within  the  wagon,  the  tilt  of  which  rocked  and 


TYPHON'S  RAGE  57 

strained.  The  air  we  gaspingly  breathed  had 
a  horrible,  acrid  taste. 

Now  and  then  a  compensating  current  of 
air  streamed  back  under  the  wing  of  the 
tempest  that  overwhelmed  us,  and  afforded 
relief  for  a  space.  It  was  only  during  such  in- 
tervals that  we  could  venture  to  lift  our  eyes; 
it  was  then  we  saw  that  the  red-maned 
tentacles  around  us  were  alive  and  writhing, 
and  we  knew  that  on  the  morrow  their  location 
and  contours  would  be  different  from  what  they 
were  that  morning. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  Typhon's 
rage  subsided  and  we  emerged  from  our 
ravaged  wagon,  which  stood  half-buried  in 
sand.  The  tentacle  near  us  had  stretched  out 
a  feeler  and  grasped  it  to  the  axles.  It  took 
several  hours  of  hard  digging  before  we  were 
able  to  liberate  the  wheels  enough  to  admit  of 
the  wagon  being  drawn  out  and  taken  to  a 
spot  which  was  free  from  drifted  sand. 

Yes,  the  monster  had  moved;  his  shoulders 
were  hunched  at  a  different  curve;  his  long 
flank  had  taken  on  strange  bends  and  bulges. 
But  he  was  once  more  prone  after  his  terrific 
but  impotent  uprising.  Typhon  slept. 


CHAPTER  IV 

A  WALK  IN  THE   DARKNESS — DREAMS  OF  A  MORNING — THE 
SCHERM — THE  SLAYING  OF  THE  OSTRICH. 

PARCHED,  sore,  gritty  and  with  over- 
strung nerves  I  sought  my  bed  early, 
hoping  that  sleep  would  come  soon  and 
obliterate  the  effects  of  that  day  of  turmoil. 

1  meant  to  shoot  an  ostrich  on  the  morrow.    To 
make  this  practicable  I  should  have  to  rise  at 

2  A.M.,  for  it  was  essential  that  I  should  reach 
a  locality  at  least  six  miles  away  before  day- 
break. 

But  the  fiery  breath, — the  tawny,  tossing 
mane  of  Typhon  seemed  still  to  envelop  me; 
his  moaning  hiss  yet  filled  my  ears.  I  felt  as 
if  I  had  stood  face  to  face  with  one  of  the 
Lords  of  Hell.  The  reek  of  Tophet  was  still 
in  my  nostrils.  Midnight  had  passed  before 
sleep  came. 

When  Hendrick  wakened  me  I  felt  as 
though  I  had  hardly  lost  consciousness.  It  was 
the  specified  hour.  Hendrick  could  no  more 
read  the  face  of  a  clock  than  he  could  decipher 


AN  EARLY  START  59 

a  logarithm,  but  he  knew  what  it  was  we  were 
going  to  attempt,  and  that  if  our  adventure 
were  to  have  any  chance  of  success,  we  should 
set  about  it  without  delay. 

Before  waking  me,  Hendrick  had  brewed 
the  coffee,  so  after  hurriedly  emptying  a 
pannikin  and  adding  a  few  rusks  to  the  con- 
tents of  my  haversack,  I  seized  a  rifle  and 
made  a  start.  My  course  lay  due  south,  my 
objective  being  the  vicinity  in  which  the  troops 
of  ostriches  had  been  visible  on  the  previous 
morning.  It  had  been  arranged  that  Hendrick 
was  to  start  an  hour  later  and  make  a  wide 
detour  to  the  right,  for  the  purpose  of  stamped- 
ing any  birds  he  could  manage  to  get  to  the 
westward  of.  It  was  trusted  that  such  birds 
might  run  towards  the  spot  where  I  intended 
to  lie  concealed. 

The  sky  was  clear  as  a  crystal  lens,  for  the 
copious  dew  had  caught  all  dust  particles 
which  were  left  suspended  in  the  atmosphere 
after  yesterday's  outburst,  and  carried  them 
back  to  earth.  The  waning  moon  had  just 
arisen;  fantastic  shadows  were  cast  by  every 
shrub  and  tussock.  The  air  was  cool —  almost 
cold ;  not  a  breath  stirred.  Every  few  yards  I 
stumbled  over  irregular  heaps  of  soft  sand, 
varying  in  height,  in  size  and  in  contour. 


60    LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

These  were  fragments  of  the  ravaged  locks  of 
Typhon — locks  torn  out  in  his  fury  of  yester- 
day and  flung  far  and  wide  over  the  desert. 

How  still  it  was ;  how  void  my  environment 
of  the  details  of  ordinary  experience.  It  was 
like  a  ramble  through  dreamland.  The  whirr- 
ing wheels  of  Time  seemed  to  have  become 

o 

dislocated;  each  as  it  were  turning  reversed 
on  its  axis — no  two  moving  at  the  same  speed. 
It  seemed  as  though  the  mill  of  which  sequence 
is  a  product  had  fallen  out  of  gear,  for  yester- 
day joined  hands  with  a  day  of  twenty  years 
old,  while  the  intervening  myriads  of  days  flew 
forth  into  the  void  like  chaff  from  a  winnower. 
Space  seemed  to  have  taken  on  additional 
dimensions, — the  impossible  to  have  become 
actual  without  an  effort.  Faces  glimmered  up 
through  the  mists  that  hung  over  the  dimming 
pathway  of  the  past — through  the  steam  of 
long-shed  tears — through  the  ghastly  coffin-lid 
and  the  horrible  six  feet  of  clay.  They  smiled 
for  an  instant,  and  vanished.  Winds  that  had 
slept  for  years  arose  laden  with  the  laughter 
from  lips  whose  warm  red  faded  with  dawns 
long  overblown.  Surely  I  must  have  strayed 
into  some  pallid  Hades  such  as  the  ancients 
fabled  of, — some  zone  where  shadows  only 
were  real  and  real  things  appeared  as  shadows. 


A  WONDERFUL  PEOPLE        61 

Mechanically  I  strode  on,  avoiding  without 
conscious  volition  the  shrubs  and  tussocks.  As 
the  moon  ascended  the  shadows  shortened  and 
became  less  grotesque.  Fancied  resemblances 
to  and  suggestions  of  things  outside  my  own 
experience,  but  of  which  my  mind  had  formed 
concepts  that  had  become  familiar,  switched 
thought  on  to  other  tracks;  the  pendulum 
swung  from  the  subjective  to  the  objective. 
Imagination  built  up  the  tiny,  lithe,  agile  forms 
of  that  race  we  exterminated  and  whose  barren 
territory  we  annexed,  but  neither  occupied  nor 
made  use  of.  I  could  almost  hear  the  san- 
dalled, pattering  feet  of  the  aboriginal  dwellers 
of  these  plains, — those  kings  of  the  waste 
whose  sceptre  was  the  poisoned  dart.  The 
Bushmen  were  in  many  respects  a  wonderful 
people.  They  obeyed  no  chief;  they  had  no 
political  organisation  whatsoever;  each  family 
governed  itself  independently.  Yet  they  had 
their  fixed  customs, — their  general  traditional 
code  of  proprieties.  They  had  knowledge  ot 
the  properties  of  plants  which  no  others  pos- 
sessed; they  had  a  highly-develoed  dramatic 
art.  As  limners  they  excelled,  and  a  keen  sense 
of  humour  is  evinced  in  many  of  their  paint- 
ings. Not  alone  was  this  sense  of  humour  keen, 
but  it  must  have  been  very  much  akin  to  our  own. 


62     LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

How  many  hot  human  hearts  have  searched 
for  a  clue  to  the  nature  of  that  Power  which 
energises  as  much  through  evil  as  through 
good, — which  could  foster  the  development  of 
a  numerous  people  under  painful  and  inex- 
orable laws  until  it  harmonised  with  its  rigorous 
environment, — that  could  implant  in  its  units 
the  capacity  for  love,  heroism  and  faithfulness 
— and  then  ordain  or  sanction  its  obliteration, 
— an  obliteration  so  absolute  that,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  one  aged  and  senile  pair,  and  a  few 
delineations  on  sheltered  rocks,  of  animals  that 
shared  its  doom,  this  people  has  not  left  a  trace 
behind.  Literally,  not  a  trace ;  hardly  so  much 
evidence  that  it  ever  existed  as  is  afforded  in 
the  case  of  an  extinct  sub-species  of  diatoms, 
the  imprint  of  whose  forms  may  be  found  on 
the  fractured  face  of  a  chalk-cliff. 

Musing  thus,  I  suddenly  became  aware  that 
day  was  at  hand,  for  the  pallid  moonlight  grew 
paler  and  the  thrill  of  approaching  dawn 
pulsated  through  the  firmament.  If  all  my 
trouble  were  not  to  be  thrown  away,  I  should  at 
once  select  a  spot  suitable  for  my  ambush. 
But  first  I  had  to  look  out  for  a  certain  shallow- 
rooted  shrub  of  globular  form  which  grew  in 
patches  here  and  there  throughout  the  desert. 
A  few  such  shrubs  had  to  be  pulled  out  of  the 


A  SHOT  A  DAY  63 

ground  and  piled  in  the  form  of  a  low,  circular 
fence  enclosing  a  space  about  six  feet  in 
diameter.  This  is  the  "  scherm  "  or  screen  so 
often  used  by  those  who  hunt  in  the  desert. 
Within  it  the  hunter  lies  prone,  fully  concealed 
from  any  approaching  quarry. 

I  was  in  luck,  for  I  had  reached  an  almost 
imperceptible  rise;  a  long  oval,  the  highest 
part  of  which  was  not  more  than  thirty  inches 
above  the  general  level  of  the  plain.  But  those 
inches  were  of  incalculable  value  for  my  pur- 
pose, for  they  extended  by  miles  the  scope  of 
my  vision  in  every  direction  and,  should  game 
have  been  afoot,  enabled  me  to  prepare  for  the 
one  and  only  shot.  A  single  shot  each  day  is 
the  utmost  that  the  hunter  on  foot  in  the  desert 
ever  expects. 

In  the  vicinity  of  the  rise  shrubs  were  fairly 
plentiful,  so  I  plucked  out  a  sufficient  number 
of  suitable  size  and  drew  them  carefully  to  the 
spot  I  had  selected  for  my  lair.  This  was  just 
to  westward  of  an  unusually  high  shrub,  a 
"  taaibosch  "  which,  after  the  sun  should  have 
arisen,  would  afford  temporary  shade  for  my 
head.  But  day  came  on  apace;  no  time  was  to 
be  lost. 

Within  a  few  minutes  my  scherm  was  com- 
plete, and  I  extended  prone  within  it.  After 


64     LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

consideration  I  ventured  to  light  my  pipe. 
There  was  no  wind;  even  had  there  been  the 
ostrich  has  no  sense  of  smell, — and  on  that  day 
I  was  not  looking  for  buck.  Even  had  an  oryx 
approached  and  sniffed  at  me,  I  would  have  let 
him  go  scathless.  An  ostrich,  and  a  super- 
excellent  one  at  that,  was  what  I  wanted.  No 
breeding  bird  with  plumes  discoloured  through 
contact  with  the  sand,  but  a  young,  lusty,  un- 
married male  with  peerless  adornment  of  foam- 
white  plumes, — the  crowning  result  of  a  long 
period  of  selection, — developed  by  unrestricted 
Nature  for  the  all-wise  end  of  making  him 
comely  in  the  eyes  of  the  female  of  his  species. 

It  was  now  day,  although  the  sun  was  not  yet 
visible.  I  was  in  my  shirt-sleeves,  having  left 
my  jacket  at  the  camp.  The  faint  wind  of 
morning  was  chill,  the  dew-soaked  ground 
dank  and  cold.  I  longed  for  the  sun  to  rise, 
albeit  well  knowing  that  after  it  had  risen  my 
discomfort  from  heat  would  be  intense,  and 
that  I  would  look  back  to  the  hour  of  the  dew 
and  the  dawn  with  vain  regret. 

Cautiously  and  very  slowly  I  lifted  my  head 
until  my  eyes  could  search  the  plain  in  the 
direction  from  which  Hendrick  was  operating. 
But  I  hardly  expected  to  see  him  yet.  Void, 
cold,  passionless  and  austere  the  still-sleeping 


THE  SUN'S  ARDOUR  65 

desert  stretched  to  the  sky-line.  The  dominant 
note  of  its  colour-scheme  was  creamy  yellow, 
with  but  a  hint  of  sage-green, — for  the  plumy 
shocks  of  the  "  toa "  far  outnumbered  the 
sparsely-scattered  shrubs.  A  glance  at 
Bantom  Berg  and  Typhon  shewed  them  to  be 
touched  by  the  first  sunbeams.  The  shoulder 
of  the  dune-monster  shone  as  though  a  radiant 
hand  were  laid  upon  it.  The  hand  stole  ten- 
derly down  the  side  and  flank,  revealing  un- 
suspected scars.  It  was  as  though  the  morning 
were  caressing  the  loathly  creature, — trying  to 
heal  with  pitying  touch  his  self-inflicted  scars 
of  yesterday.  In  the  limitless  expanse  of 
desert  Typhon  and  his  granite  prisoner  stood 
isolated, — the  only  prominence,  and  the  un- 
gainly bulk  of  Typhon  made  manifest  the  im- 
mensity of  the  kingdom  he  had  usurped  and 
the  illimitable  extent  of  the  territory  towards 
which  his  carking  hands  outstretched. 

The  sun  was  now  up  and  the  resulting 
warmth  was  a  physical  delight.  But  I  could 
not  avoid  lugubrious  anticipation  of  what  all 
too  soon  was  coming, — that  fierce  ardour  which 
would  cause  the  sand  to  grow  red-hot  and 
make  my  couch,  then  so  comfortable,  a  bed  of 
torment.  Why  should  this  anticipation  have 
almost  destroyed  my  physical  pleasure?  why 


66    LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

should  mind  and  body  thus  have  been  set  at 
variance  with  each  other  as  the  sense  of  grate- 
ful warmth  penetrated  my  shivering  limbs  ?  It 
is  this  kind  of  thing  that  places  man  at  a  dis- 
advantage as  compared  with  other  animals, 
who  live  in  the  immediately  existing  time.  No 
matter  how  fair  the  flowers  or  how  rich  the 
fruits  of  the  present  may  be,  a  menacing  hand 
stretches  back  from  the  future  and  touches 
these  with  blight.  When  the  Apostle  of  the 
Gentiles  wrote  that  he  died  daily,  he  merely 
cried  out  under  the  lash  of  that  curse  of  fore- 
knowledge which  is  at  once  man's  glory  and  his 
doom.  And  the  farther  the  eyes  of  man  pierce 
into  the  future,  the  more  terrible  will  be  the 
things  revealed. 

A  yelp;  then  many  yelps, — faint,  but  clear 
as  a  tinkling  bell.  They  came  from  the  side 
opposite  the  one  from  which  I  expected  the 
game  to  be  driven.  Cautiously  I  sank  back, 
wormed  myself  round  and  looked  over  the 
edge  of  the  scherm  in  the  direction  from  which 
the  sound  came.  A  jackal,  of  course, — but 
why  was  he  yelping  ?  The  reason  was  quickly 
apparent.  About  seven  hundred  yards  away 
stood  two  ostrich  hens.  Running  hither  and 
thither,  in  hot  pursuit  of  the  jackal,  was  the 
cock  bird.  Autolycus  was  hard  pressed ;  it  was 


JACKAL  AND  OSTRICH          67 

only  by  constant  and  cunning  doubling  and 
twisting  that  he  was  able  to  escape  the  sledge- 
hammer kicks, — any  one  of  which,  had  it  got 
home,  would  have  broken  his  back  or  ripped 
out  his  entrails.  The  chase  trended  in  my 
direction;  as  the  pursued  and  the  pursuer  ap- 
proached I  had  an  excellent  view  of  it.  At 
length  the  prowler  reached  his  burrow  and 
hurled  himself  incontinently  in,  his  brush  de- 
scribing a  frantic  arc  as  he  disappeared.  The 
ostrich,  fuming  with  disappointed  wrath  and 
flicking  his  wings  alternately  over  his  back,  to 
work  off  his  indignation,  stalked  with  stately 
gait  back  to  his  wives. 

Evidently  this  was  a  breeding  trio,  and  the 
nest  was  not  far  from  where  the  hens  were  stand- 
ing. No  doubt  what  happened  was  this :  the 
birds  arose  from  the  nest  for  the  purpose  of 
allowing  the  eggs  to  cool.  Then  the  jackal, 
who  had  made  his  burrow  in  the  vicinity  as 
soon  as  the  nest  had  been  established,  attempted 
to  play  off  his  old,  well  known,  but  often 
effective  trick.  This  consists  in  stealing  up  to 
the  nest  in  an  unguarded  moment,  pawing  out 
one  of  the  eggs  to  the  top  of  the  circular  mound 
by  which  they  are  surrounded,  and  then  butting 
it  with  his  nose  hard  down  Oft  the  others.  If 
the  contents  of  an  egg  thus  broken  were  fresh, 


68    LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

the  jackal  would  lap  it  up;  if  the  chicken 
should  already  have  been  formed,  so  much  the 
better  for  the  thief. 

These  birds  did  not  interest  me  that  day; 
they  and  their  nest  formed  a  domestic  menage 
which  should  not  be  interfered  with, — except 
of  course,  by  jackals  and  their  confederates, 
the  blackguardly  white  crows  that  carry  small, 
heavy  stones  high  into  the  air,  and  drop  them 
on  the  eggs.  An  ostrich  nursery  in  the  desert 
requires  much  careful  management  and  must 
be  a  source  of  constant  anxiety. 

I  will  not  say  that  I  had  begun  to  regret  my 
adventure;  nevertheless  the  sunshine  had 
waxed  fiercely  hot.  My  head  was  still  within 
the  small  and  decreasing  patch  of  shadow  cast 
by  the  taaibosch,  but  my  back — and  more 
especially  my  shoulders — suffered  badly.  I 
wished  Hendrick  would  hurry.  That  game, 
was  afoot  was  almost  certain;  otherwise  he 
would  long  since  have  appeared.  My  trusty 
scout  evidently  had  seen  the  advisability  of 
making  a  detour  wider  than  the  one  originally 
proposed.  He  was  no  doubt  exercising  every  wile 
of  his  comprehensive  veld-craft  towards  getting 
me  a  shot.  His  work  was  more  arduous  than  mine ; 
nevertheless  I  wished  I  could  have  changed 
places  with  him  if  only  for  a  few  minutes. 


SHADOWLESS  HEAT  69 

When  I  realised  that  my  back  was  getting 
really  overdone  I  turned  over  and  exposed  in 
turn  each  side,  and  eventually  the  front  of  my 
body,  to  the  sun.  Then  I  felt  overdone  all 
round.  Moreover  the  vestige  of  shadow  in 
which  my  head  cowered — that  cast  by  the 
sparse  top  of  the  taaibosch,  through  which  the 
sunlight  leaked  freely — grew  more  and  more 
scanty.  Oh !  I  breathed,  for  a  return  of  that 
blessed  coolness  of  morning  which  my  frame, 
softened  by  years  of  a  semi-sedentary  life,  had 
been  unable  to  sustain  without  discomfort. 
Oh !  for  the  gentle,  healing  hand  of  the  dew, 
which  I  so  ungratefully  contemned.  If  these 
desert  plants  can  feel  and  think,  how  they  must 
long  for  the  night, — for  the  miracle  of  cool 
moisture  which,  perhaps,  a  beneficent  planet 
distils  in  some  grove-garden  of  the  asteroids 
and  seals  up  in  the  crystal  vats  of  some 
celestial  tavern  known  only  to  its  sister  spheres 
and  the  moon. 

Surely  there  is  some  hostel  of  mercy  in 
whose  cool  cellars  the  precious  vintage  lies 
hidden  from  the  rapacity  of  the  cruel  sun, — 
held  in  readiness  to  be  poured  out  from  the 
etherial  beakers  of  the  firmament  on  the  tortured 
tongues  of  the  leaves  and  grass-blades,  when 
the  tyrant  of  the  skies  departs  for  a  season. 


70    LODGES  IN  THE  .WILDERNESS 

My  physical  condition  had  become  acutely 
serious  on  account  of  the  increasing  heat  and 
the  more  nearly  vertical  vantage  of  the  sun's 
arrows.  The  actual,  immediate  pain  was  bad 
enough, — but  how  about  consequences.  St 
Lawrence  no  doubt  ascended  to  Paradise  from 
his  gridiron,  but  I  should  have  to  toil  on  foot 
over  miles  of  desert  after  arising  from  mine. 
Even  if  I  thereafter  soaked  myself  in  olive  oil, 
days  of  blistered  misery  might  have  been  in 
store  for  me.  Oh  !  for  a  cloud  or  for  Hendrick. 
If  he  only  had  arrived  within  sight  I  might 
have  vacated  my  couch  of  anguish  without 
forfeiting  his  respect  or  my  own.  The  loss 
of  expected  sport  became  unimportant. 
Ostrich  shooting  in  the  desert  from  a  scherm 
was  far  more  than  my  fancy  had  painted  it. 

Hist !  What  was  that  ?  It  was  not  a  sound ; 
hardly  was  it  a  tremor.  It  was  rather  a  thrill 
not  perceptible  to  any  one  sense;  something 
apprehended  by  the  nameless  perceptions  of 
the  noumenon-area  lying  deep  beneath  the 
phenomena  of  sensation.  I  risked  sunstroke  by 
discarding  my  hat;  then  I  slowly  lifted  my 
head  until  I  could  look  over  the  edge  of  the 
scherm.  At  what  I  saw  misery  hid  her  face; 
mind  once  more  assumed  command  of  body. 

The  plain  to  the  south-west  was  dotted  with 


THE  OSTRICH  AT  HOME        71 

moving  ostriches.  Singly,  in  twos,  in  threes, 
in  tens — they  were  speeding  north-eastward 
over  the  desert ;  some  on  my  right,  some  to  the 
left.  Ever  and  anon  one  or  other  of  the  groups 
halted  and  its  members  stood  at  gaze.  The 
ostrich  cannot  keep  on  the  move  continuously1 
for  any  length  of  time  on  a  hot  day.  If  forced 
to  attempt  doing  so,  death  from  heat-apoplexy 
would  inevitably  result.  One  troop,  far  in  ad- 
vance of  all  the  others,  seemed  to  be  approach- 
ing me,  but  it  swerved  and  passed  to  the  left. 
It  contained  eleven  birds,  most  of  them  young 
and  immature ;  a  few  were  full-grown  hens  and 
one  was  a  very  large  cock  bird.  However,  his 
plumes  were  sand-stained,  so  it  is  evident  he 
had  been  dislodged  from  a  nest. 

Far  and  near  there  must  have  been  nearly  a 
hundred  birds  in  sight.  No  doubt  some 
favourite  food  was  plentiful  in  the  vicinity 
from  which  they  had  been  stampeded ;  possibly 
a  swarm  of  locusts  might  have  there  hatched 
out.  Now  the  birds  were  beginning  to  scud 
past  between  me  and  the  camp,  as  though  fol- 
lowing a  trail  known  to  them.  But  they  were 
too  far  off  to  fire  at.  Could  it  be  that  after  all 
I  was  not  to  have  a  shot. 

Another  troop  swerved  to  a  course  calculated 
to  bring  them  fairly  close  to  the  scherm ;  there 


72     LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

were  eight  birds  in  it.  They  paused  and  stood 
at  gaze  for  a  short  interval,  about  a  mile  away. 
Then  they  resumed  their  flight  along  a  course 
which  would,  if  they  held  it,  bring  them  to 
within  less  than  three  hundred  yards  of  me,  on 
my  right. 

On  they  pressed  with  even,  steady  stride. 
Two  were  young  but  full-grown  cocks  with 
snow-white,  sumptuous  plumes.  Cautiously  I 
laid  my  rifle  over  the  edge  of  the  scherm  and 
adjusted  the  sight  to  two  hundred  yards.  The 
steel  barrel  scorched  my  fingers.  Would  the 
birds  stand, — that  was  the  question  of  import- 
ance. A  running  shot  is  always  uncertain. 

They  halted  when  some  two  hundred  and 
fifty  yards  away.  Of  the  two  gallant  cocks  one 
was  manifestly  superior;  my  bead  was  on  him. 
I  pulled  the  trigger;  there  was  a  tremendous 
report  and  the  recoil  nearly  stunned  me.  My 
shot  had  missed.  The  birds  sped  away,  at 
right  angles  to  their  original  course.  They 
became  confused  and  ran  hither  and  thither, 
for  the  near  whiz  of  the  bullet  had  alarmed 
them  nearly  as  much  as  the  distant  detonation. 
But  soon  the  bird  I  had  fired  at  was  speeding 
straight  away  from  me.  Within  ten  seconds  I 
fired  again,  and  he  fell.  The  explanation  of 
my  having  missed  the  first  and  easier  shot  is 


FASHIONS  TOLL  73 

simple  :  I  had  foolishly  allowed  the  cartridge 
to  lie  for  a  long  time  in  the  sun-heated  chamber 
of  the  rifle;  consequently  the  powder  (one  of 
the  then  new,  smokeless  varieties)  had  become 
too  energetic.  There  was  no  violent  recoil 
from  the  second  shot. 

I  sprang  from  the  scherm  and  ran  to  my 
quarry.  There  he  lay,  breast  downward,  his 
long  neck  bent  and  his  head  concealed  under 
the  black,  bulky  body.  The  wings  were  ex- 
panded, with  the  snowy  plumes  outspread,  fan- 
like,  on  each  side.  The  bird  was  stone  dead, 
for  the  bullet  struck  the  base  of  the  spinal 
column  and  shattered  it  throughout  the  whole 
length.  No  swifter  death  could  have  been 
devised. 

Carefully,  one  by  one,  I  plucked  out  the 
lovely  plumes.  They  were  surely  the  fairest 
and  purest  ornaments  ever  devised  by  that  in- 
fluence which  men,  when  the  world  was  young, 
personified  and  worshipped  as  the  Goddess  of 
Love, — the  noblest  concrete  expression  of  that 
principle  which  strives  to  draw  sex  relations  to 
the  higher  planes  of  beauty.  And  here  had  I, 
a  decadent  human,  typical  of  a  neuropathic 
age,  destroyed  this  exquisite  embodied  achieve- 
ment for  the  purpose  of  reversing  Nature's 
plan.  For  I  should  transfer  to  the  female,  to 


74  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 
my  own  womankind,  adornments  developed 
naturally  on  the  male  for  the  enhancement  of 
his  own  proper  beauty.  The  female  ostrich, 
in  her  robe  of  tender,  greyish  brown,  is  attrac- 
tive enough  to  her  prospective  mate  without 
artificial  aid.  Were  she  to  hang  a  wisp  of 
human  hair  about  her  graceful,  undulating 
neck,  she  would  rightly  be  regarded  as  a  freak. 

Schopenhauer  was  right,  —  among  human 
beings  as  among  other  animals  the  male  is 
esentially  more  beautiful  than  the  female;  it 
is  the  sex-disturbance  which  confuses  our 
canons.  If  it  were  otherwise  women  would  not 
find  it  necessary  to  ransack  mineral,  vegetable 
and  animal  nature  for  the  purpose  of  enhanc- 
ing their  attractiveness. 

My  plucking  came  to  an  end.  The  long, 
foamy  whites, — the  short,  glossy  blacks  whose 
hue  was  deeper  than  that  of  the  raven's  wing, — 
were  tied  into  bundles  with  twine  from  my 
compendious  haversack.  There  lay  the  hud- 
dled, ruined,  mangled  body;  there  grinned  the 
already  dry  and  blackened  blood-clot  defacing 
the  desert's  visage.  Rifled  of  its  garment  of 
harmonious  and  appropriate  beauty,  smitten 
and  smashed  into  an  object  of  grisly  horror, — 
this  piteous  sacrifice  to  woman's  callous  vanity 
and  the  heartless  cruelty  of  her  mate  seemed 


A  LIBATION  75 

to  make  the  wilderness  as  foul  as  the  altar  of 
Cain. 

With  an  effort  I  passed  from  the  standpoint 
of  a  somewhat  inconsequent  and  inconsistent 
Jekyll  to  that  of  a  primeval  Hyde.  From  my 
flask,  the  contents  of  which  had  been  carefully 
preserved  intact  up  to  the  present,  I  poured 
out  a  libation  to  the  manes  of  the  departed 
ostrich.  Might  his  freed  spirit  find  refuge  in 
some  Elysian  wilderness  unvexed  of  prowlers 
who  call  chemistry  and  machinery  to  the  aid 
of  their  own  physical  deficiencies,  and  slay 
because  slaughter  stimulates  their  debilitated 
pulses. 

Far,  far  away  to  the  south-west  I  saw  faith- 
ful Hendrick  approaching.  I  would  not  wait 
for  him;  he  was  too  distant.  My  paramount 
need  just  then  was  shade — even  if  such  could 
only  be  found  under  the  tilt  of  a  wagon  where 
the  thermometer  probably  stood  at  112  Fahr. 
Hendrick's  needs  were  elementary;  he  would 
be  delighted  with  the  meat  and  the  inferior 
black  feathers  which  I  had  not  thought  it  worth 
while  to  pluck.  With  the  latter  Hendrick  and 
his  kindred  would  adorn  their  disreputable 
hats.  But  their  actions  would  be  less  opposed  to 
Nature's  plan  than  mine,  for  it  was  the  men  who 
would  go  sombrely  gay,  not  their  woman-kind. 


76     LODGES   IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

The  tramp  back  to  camp  was  long  and 
wearisome.  Could  it  be  that  I  strode  along 
the  same  course  whereon  a  few  short  hours 
ago  I  had  paced  hand  in  hand  with  gentle 
dreams  ?  There, — on  that  dusty,  gasping  sun- 
scorched  flat?  Could  it  be  that  the  stars  and 
the  soothing  dew  lay  beyond  that  expanse  of 
flaming  sky,  and  that  the  laggard  night,  with 
healing  on  her  dusky  wings,  would  draw  them 
down  once  more? 

That  day  Danster  was  on  his  way  from 
Gamoep  with  the  horses.  That  afternoon  Piet 
Noona  and  his  imp-like  nephew  would  hurry 
the  oxen  over  the  desert  towards  our  camp; 
they  should  arrive  the  following  night.  On 
the  next  day  we  intended  to  break  camp  and 
trek  back  westward.  The  return  journey 
would  not  be  so  arduous  for  the  cattle;  we 
should  have  used  up  the  greater  part  of  the 
water,  and  the  load  would  be  correspondingly 
lighter. 

The  horses  arrived  soon  after  sundown, — 
old  "  Prince  "  with  his  deep  chest,  his  power- 
ful quarters,  and  his  broad,  shoeless,  almost 
spatulate  feet.  The  other  horse,  "  Buce- 
phalus," was  a  big,  raw-boned  black  stallion 
which  Andries  had  in  training.  Hendrick  was, 
so  far,  the  only  one  able  to  ride  him. 


TYPHON  SLEEPS  77 

Night  once  more — with  the  recurrent  miracle 
of  the  dew-fall  and  the  stars.  Typhon  slept. 
Of  what  was  he  dreaming?  Of  the  far-off 
day  when  the  overflowing  measure  of  his  in- 
famy caused  the  decree  of  his  banishment  to 
be  pronounced, — of  the  lands  he  ravaged  and 
blighted  on  his  southward  course, — of  his 
enemy,  the  rain-god,  who  smote  him  with  the 
river-sword  and  thus  crippled  him  for  ever? 

But  man  also  must  sleep — and  on  the  mor- 
row I  had  to  journey  to  the  Kanya-veld. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE   KANYA — THE   SPELL    OF    THE    DESERT — MV   HORSE — 
THE  TERROR  OF  NOON — EXECUTION  OF  A  MARAUDER. 

ANOTHER  glorious  morning;  the  air 
was  like  cooled,  sparkling  wine.  I 
knew,  both  by  the  taste  and  the  direc- 
tion of  the  wind,  that  the  day  would  be  as  mild 
as  it  ever  was  in  the  desert  at  that  season  of 
the  year.  Through  the  faint  dew-haze  a  hint 
of  invitation — with  a  tender,  enigmatic  sugges- 
tion of  a  smile,  shone  out  of  the  east.  That 
was  the  day  set  apart  for  my  journey  to  the 
Kanya-veld,  the  fringe  of  which  lay  about  ten 
miles  distant,  beyond  Typhon's  eastern  flank. 
This  is  a  region  which  lies  solitary  in  the 
very  heart  of  solitude.  "  Kanya,"  in  the  Hot- 
tentot tongue,  means  "  round  stone,"  and  the 
Kanya-veld  is  thickly  paved  with  such  stones. 
They  measure,  as  a  rule,  from  four  to  eight 
inches  in  diameter,  and  they  lie  packed  so 
closely  that  they  nearly  touch  each  other. 
They  are  buried  to  the  extent  of  about  two- 
thirds  of  their  bulk  in  hard,  red  soil.  Between 


THE  KANYA-VELD  79 

them  a  scanty,  hard-bitten,  salamander-like 
vegetation  strikes  root.  The  Kanya-veld  is 
hardly,  if  at  all,  higher  than  the  rest  of  the 
desert.  As  to  what  the  geological  explanation 
of  this  strange  phenomenon  may  be,  I  have 
no  idea  whatever. 

No  one  knew  the  extent  of  the  Kanya-veld, 
for  that  part  of  the  desert  had  not  then  been 
surveyed,  nor  even  roughly  charted.  Before 
reaching  the  main  Kanya-tract  one  crossed 
narrow  strips  of  the  closely-packed  spheres; 
these  lay  outside  it,  after  the  manner  of  reefs 
surrounding  a  coral  island. 

My  journey  of  that  day  was  to  me  the  most 
important  event  of  the  excursion, — yet  it  had 
no  definite  object  beyond  the  assuagement  of 
that  hunger  for  a  realisation  of  the  ultimate 
expression  of  solitude  which  sometimes  gnaws 
at  my  soul.  It  was  of  what  I  was  then  to  rea- 
lise that  I  dreamt  through  night  hours  spent 
alone  on  a  certain  rocky  hillside,  when  the  east 
wind,  with  the  scent  of  the  desert  on  its  wings 
and  the  music  of  the  waste  in  its  lightest 
whisper,  streamed  between  me  and  the  stars. 
But  why  try  to  explain  the  inexplicable  ?  You 
who  have  not  felt  a  like  longing  would  never 
understand;  you  who  have,  will  know  without 
a  word. 


Prince  stood  ready  girthed.  Swartland — 
renamed  "  Bucephalus,"  the  black  stallion  with 
the  big  head  and  the  vicious,  white-rimmed 
eye — was  recalcitrant  and  resented  the  ap- 
proach of  Hendrick  with  the  saddle.  But  I 
had  decided  to  ride  on;  Hendrick  was  not  to 
follow  until  the  afternoon.  I  threatened  that 
faithful  follower  with  grievous  penalties  if  so 
much  as  a  silhouette  of  himself  and  his  ugly 
steed  shewed  on  my  sky-line  until  after  the 
sun  had  passed  the  zenith. 

For  we  meant  to  be  alone  that  day,  Prince 
and  I ;  to  feel  that  we  had  got  close  enough  to 
the  heart  of  Solitude  to  hear  its  beats, — to  try 
and  capture  in  our  ears,  dulled  by  so-called 
civilisation,  some  syllables  of  that  lore  with 
which  the  desert's  murmuring  undertone  is  so 
rich,  but  which  only  the  great  of  soul  can  fully 
understand.  The  cast  of  the  desert's  message 
is  epic  rather  than  lyrical.  The  cloud-mantled 
mountain  and  the  green  valley, — the  forest, 
the  stream  and  the  foaming  sea  teach  the  poet 
his  sweeter  songs.  But  it  is  the  Prophet  of 
God,  the  law-giver  and  the  warrior  who  listen 
for  and  learn  their  stern  messages  from  the 
tongues  of  the  arid  wilderness. 

The  difference  between  the  desert  and  the 
fertile  tract  is  that  between  the  ascetic  and  the 


PRINCE  81 

full-fed  man.  The  desert  appeals  to  the  in- 
tellect; the  verdant,  rain-nurtured  valley  to 
the  emotions.  The  variance  is  as  that  between 
percipience  and  sensation.  The  stimulation 
with  which  a  healthy  organism  responds  to 
rigorous  conditions  expresses  itself  in  an  in- 
creased efficiency  that  is  usually  invincible. 
Thus  it  is  that  from  the  physically  unfruitful 
desert  all  really  great  ideas  have  sprung.  The 
wilderness  has  ever  been  the  rich  storehouse 
of  spiritual  things.  Man  gains  corporeal, 
moral  and  intellectual  power  in  the  arid  waste, 
and  loses  them  in  the  land  of  corn  and  wine. 
Dearth  is  the  parent  and  the  tutor  of  thought, 
the  desert  is  the  harvest-field  of  wisdom.  Soli- 
tude is  the  fruitful  mother  of  noble  resolve, — 
the  kind  nurse  of  the  spirit. 

I  wished  my  horse  had  another,  a  more  suit- 
able name.  "  Prince  "  smacked  of  the  stable 
— the  brougham.  He  should  have  been  called 
by  some  term  expressive  of  steadfast  endur- 
ance, of  faithfulness, — of  excellent  skill  as  a 
pursuer  of  the  oryx.  That  elderly  bay  gelding 
with  the  spatulate  feet  was  an  ideal  desert 
mount.  It  was  in  the  course  of  a  long  chase 
after  oryx  that  one  appreciated  him  to  the  full. 
I  had  more  than  once  ridden  him  at  a  gallop 
for  ten  miles  without  a  check ;  then,  after  a  roll 
E 


82     LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

in  the  sand,  he  was  apparently  as  fresh  as 
ever. 

One  of  the  dangers  of  a  desert  chase  lay  in 
the  mouse-city,  in  which  on  getting  entangled 
an  ordinary  horse  was  apt  to  check  so  suddenly 
in  his  course  that  he  rolled  head-over-heels 
and  crushed  his  rider.  But  Prince  had  quite 
an  original  method  of  meeting  the  difficulty : 
he  spread  his  legs  out  in  some  extraordinary 
way,  sank  down  until  his  belly  almost  touched 
the  ground,  and  floundered  through.  The 
strange  thing  was  that  he  did  not  seem  to 
break  his  stride.  There  was  no  jerk ;  the 
rider  was  in  no  way  incommoded.  I  would 
have  given  a  great  deal  for  a  side  view  of 
the  performance ;  it  must  have  resembled 
somewhat  the  progress  of  an  heraldic  griffin 
rampaging  horizontally  instead  of  verti- 
cally. 

Where  the  surface  was  suitable,  neither  too 
hard  nor  too  soft,  we  cantered  slowly  along, — 
careless  as  the  wind  that  gently  agitated  the 
shocks  of  "  toa."  Game  was  at  times  in  sight, 
but  very  far  off.  Three  hartebeest  sped  away 
over  the  sky-line,  their  forms  looming  im- 
mense and  grotesque  just  as  the  mirage  seized 
them.  I  wondered  what  they  looked  like  when 
thrown  on  the  sky-screen  and  seen  from  a 


THE  SPELL  OF  THE  DESERT    83 

distance  of  fifty  to  a  hundred  miles.  Oryx 
spoor,  but  not  very  fresh,  abounded. 

There  were  no  ostriches  visible.  Those  that 
on  the  previous  day  stampeded  eastward  had 
no  doubt  gone  back  during  the  night  to  the 
locality  in  which  Hendrick  had  found  them. 
A  few  springbuck  were  occasionally  to  be 
seen,  but  they  were  exceedingly  wild.  One 
would  have  had  to  manoeuvre  to  get  within  a 
thousand  yards  of  them.  Now  and  then  a 
paauw  flew  up, — a  forerunner  of  that  immense 
migration  which  would  take  place  a  few  weeks 
later.  Then  the  whole  paauw-population  of 
the  Kalihari  would  cross  the  Orange  River 
and  move  over  the  plains  by  an  oblique  route 
towards  the  coast.  They  would  return  over 
the  same  course  after  they  had  nested  and 
hatched  out  their  young. 

I  had  brought  my  rifle, — more  from  force  of 
habit  than  anything  else,  for  I  was  not  anxious 
to  shoot.  I  was  content  to  gaze  on  the  enthrall- 
ing, impassive  face  with  which  the  world  there 
defied  the  arrogant  sun ;  to  admire  that  quality 
in  it  which  I  most  lacked, — its  steadfastness.  I 
wanted  to  breathe  the  desert's  breath,  to  drink' 
of  its  life, — to  do  it  homage  and  to  love  it — not 
for  any  fleeting  beauty,  but  because  my  un- 
steadfast  soul  found  it  loveable  and  strong. 


84     LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

I  had  been  on  foot  for  some  time.  Prince, 
with  the  reins  fastened  short  about  his  neck  to 
prevent  them  trailing,  followed  like  a  faithful 
dog.  Should  I  pause  for  what  he  considered 
too  long  an  interval,  he  pushed  me  gently 
forward  with  his  nose.  He,  too,  wanted  to 
explore — to  wandei  on  listlessly  whither  the 
spirit  of  solitude  beckoned. 

At  length  we  reached  the  first  strip  of 
Kanya.  It  was  hardly  six  feet  wide, — that 
even,  regular  pavement  of  ironstone  spheres 
laid  down  by  the  hand  of  Nature  in  further- 
ance of  some  aeon-old  phase  of  world-develop- 
ment. Were  those  spheres  forged  in  some 
volcano-furnace  or  turned  in  the  lathe  of  the 
rolling  waves  in  days  when  the  temples  of 
Atlantis  gleamed  white  over  the  ocean  that  is 
its  tomb  and  that  bears  its  name?  Were  they 
slowly  ground  in  the  mill-vortex  of  some 
mighty  river  that  bore  away  the  drainage  of  a 
boundless  humid  tract,  where  now  a  raincloud 
is  almost  as  rare  as  a  comet? 

Straight  ahead,  a  little  more  than  a  mile 
away,  the  continuous  Kanya-veld  shewed 
like  a  darker  wrinkle  on  the  desert's  brown 
face,  for  we  were  now  out  of  the  region  of 
"toa."  The  stony  strips  grew  wider  as  I  ad- 
vanced, and  the  intervening  spaces  narrower 


A  SINISTER  LAND  85 

and  narrower  until  they  disappeared  alto- 
gether. 

Here  Prince  and  I  parted  company  for  a 
while;  I  dared  not  risk  the  possibility  of  injury 
to  those  faithful  feet  that  had  carried  me  so 
swiftly  and  so  far.  Even  proceeding  at  a 
walking  pace  in  the  Kanya,  unless  every  step 
were  carefully  picked,  involved  a  risk  of  sprain 
to  ankle  or  fetlock.  So  I  removed  the  saddle 
and  tied  my  companion  to  a  bush — not  be- 
cause I  feared  his  straying,  but  for  the  reason 
that  it  was  otherwise  impossible  to  prevent  his 
following  me. 

It  was  far  hotter  there  among  the  Kanya 
than  outside,  for  the  dark-hued  stones  ab- 
sorbed heat  and  radiated  it  fiercely.  The 
desert's  visage  had  taken  on  a  sinister,  forbid- 
ding expression;  almost  as  though  it  resented 
intrusion — as  though  it  had  surrounded  some 
shrine  of  secret  horror  with  flame-hot,  laming 
obstacles. 

The  only  vegetation  consisted  of  a  few 
low,  gnarled,  bitter-looking  shrubs.  What  an 
apprenticeship  to  inimical  conditions  these 
eremites  of  the  vegetable  world  must  have 
undergone  to  enable  them  to  save  their  scanty 
leaves  alive, — rooted,  as  they  were,  in  a  pinch 
of  brick-like  soil  lying  in  narrow  spaces  be- 


86    LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

Jween  glowing  spheres  of  stone,  and  lacking 
rain,  as  they  did,  for  periods  of  years  at  a 
stretch.  Their  strength  must  have  been  as 
much  greater  than  that  of  the  oak  as  the  oak's 
is  greater  than  that  of  a  willow  sapling.  Did 
these  shrubs  ever  flower,  I  wondered.  Per- 
haps, once  in  a  thousand  years,  a  miracle  was 
wrought  on  them  as  it  was  on  Aaron's  rod. 
Only  one  could  I  identify — even  so  far  as  the 
genus  went.  It  was  a  kind  of  Rhus ;  the  dark- 
green,  reticulated,  trifid  leaf  —  naked  and 
deeply  veined  above  and  covered  with  down 
beneath, — was  quite  typical. 

For  what  unspeakable  cosmic  sin  was  that 
titanic  and  seemingly  eternal  punishment  in- 
flicted,— that  withdrawal  of  living  water  from 
a  region  built  up  and,  no  doubt,  filled  with 
abounding  organic  fecundity  by  the  craft  of 
its  strong,  creative  hand?  Did  multitudes  of 
those  fearsome  monsters  of  the  prehistoric  sea, 
which  there  swayed  beneath  the  moon,  gasp 
out  their  lives  on  that  sun-blasted  tract  when 
the  great  cataclysm  befel?  Did  a  livid  net- 
work of  their  colossal  bones  lie  there  for  un- 
thinkable ages  until  the  slow  attrition  of  wind 
and  changing  temperature  transmuted  them 
into  that  dust  which  vainly  tried  to  scale  the  im- 
mutable heavens  in  the  car  of  the  sand-spout? 


A  SOLEMN  DANCE  87 

Did  the  unanealed  spirits  of  those  long-dead 
creatures  still  people  that  haunted  solitude 
which  made  day  more  terrifying  than  mid- 
night? Were  the  landscapes  of  the  mirage 
simulacra  of  those  bounding  an  inland  sea  in 
which  the  dragon  and  the  kraken  lived  and 
multiplied?  Was  the  thrilling  fear,  which  read 
menace  in  my  own  shadow,  akin  to  that  "  terror 
of  noon  "  which  gripped  the  heart-strings  of 
the  shepherd  of  Mount-Ida, — when  he  knew, 
by  the  rustling  of  the  brake  that  Pan  was  near? 

I  hastened  away — back  to  where  the  desert 
wore  a  friendlier  face, — to  where  old  Prince 
was  executing  a  kind  of  solemn  dance  before 
the  "  taaibosch  "  to  which  he  was  tethered, — 
lifting  his  feet  constantly,  one  at  a  time,  in  a 
vain  attempt  to  cool  them.  He  welcomed  me 
with  a  whinny  of  relief.  Perhaps  the  spirits 
of  the  Kanya  had  been  filling  him,  too,  with 
indefinable  dread.  So  the  saddle  was  re- 
placed, and  I  resumed  my  pilgrimage  on  foot, 
the  old  horse  pacing  stolidly  after  me. 

We  trended  southward,  for  I  wanted  to  get 
away  from  the  Kanya;  I  began  to  hate  it — 
almost  as  I  hated  Typhon.  Yet  I  should  not 
have  hated  either,  for  if  it  had  not  been  for 
these  two,  the  oryx,  one  of  the  desert's  noblest 
denizens, — the  aristocrat  of  its  depleted 


88     LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

mammal  population — would  long  since  have 
been  exterminated.  The  Kanya  is  to  the  oryx 
a  strong  city  of  refuge  from  pursuit,  and  he 
draws  his  scanty  but  sufficient  supply  of 
moisture  from  the  dunes  coiled  about 
Typhon's  flanks.  This  seeming  paradox  is 
explained  by  the  circumstance  that  a  certain 
plant,  the  root  of  which  somewhat  resembles 
an  exaggerated  turnip  and  is  heavily  charged 
with  moisture,  grows  in  the  dune-veld.  This 
root  the  oryx  scents  out,  and  digs  from  out  the 
sand  with  his  strong,  sharp,  heavy  hoofs. 

The  Kanya  stones,  which  stop  a  galloping 
horse  as  effectively  as  would  a  barbed  wire 
fence,  are  no  obstacle  to  the  oryx,  for  the 
divisions  of  his  hoof  expand  widely  and  are 
connected  by  a  strong  membrane  of  muscle. 
They  stretch  apart  when  he  treads  on  a  stone, 
the  membrane  lying  over  the  latter  like  a  sup- 
porting spring.  Yet,  strangely  enough,  I  once 
saw  an  oryx  break  its  leg  in  passing  over  a 
narrow  strip  of  Kanya.  This  occurred  many 
miles  from  where  I  was  that  day;  on  the 
southern  fringe  of  the  Kanya-tract,  in  fact. 

It  happened  in  this  wise.  One  morning 
Hendrick  and  I  rode  ahead  of  the  wagon. 
Five  oryx  emerged  from  a  depression  and 
stood  at  gaze  about  six  hundred  yards  away.  I 


A  STRANGE  ACCIDENT          89 

fired  at  the  largest  bull;  he  lurched  half-way 
round,  sinking  partly  on  his  haunches.  But 
he  at  once  sprang  up  and  fled  like  the  wind, 
completely  distancing  the  other  four.  I  fol- 
lowed, putting  old  Prince  on  his  mettle  from 
the  start,  for  the  Kanya  was  only  about  five 
miles  away,  and  the  wounded  oryx  was  making 
straight  for  it. 

The  speed  of  the  wounded  animal 
slackened ;  not  to  any  great  extent,  but  enough 
to  permit  of  the  others  slowly  overtaking  and 
then  drawing  ahead  of  him.  When  he  reached 
the  edge  of  the  Kanya  tract  I  was  about  to  give 
up  the  pursuit  in  despair,  when  the  animal 
swayed  in  a  peculiar  way  and  then  stood  still, 
so  I  rode  up  and  finished  him.  Then  I  found 
that  the  bone  of  his  left  fetlock  had  been 
freshly  broken.  My  first  bullet  had,  without 
touching  the  bone,  passed  through  his  right 
hind  leg  just  where  the  great  muscles  of  the 
haunch  harden  and  thin  down  into  sinew.  The 
stroke  of  the  heavy,  leaden  missile  must  have 
caused  a  severe  mechanical  shock.  This, 
under  stress  of  the  gallop,  evidently  translated 
itself  into  stiffness,  which  occasioned  leaning 
with  undue  heaviness  on  the  sound  leg.  The 
oryx  was  crossing  a  strip  of  Kanya  not  more 
than  twelve  feet  wide  when  the  accident  hap- 


9o     LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

pened.  Probably  no  similar  occurrence  has 
ever  been  witnessed  by  man. 

My  guardian-centaur,  Hendrick-cum-Buce- 
phalus,  appeared  on  the  north-western  horizon. 
Yes, — it  was  time  to  turn  back,  for  the  sun 
had  long-since  passed  the  zenith.  Hendrick, 
as  usual,  looked  supercilious  when  he  found  I 
had  shot  nothing.  It  would  have  been  useless 
to  have  attempted  to  explain  that  Prince  and 
I  had  come  out  that  day  only  to  talk  secrets 
with  the  desert;  Hendrick  was  too  little  re- 
moved from  the  natural  man  to  be  capable  of 
understanding  such  a  thing.  He  was  an  in- 
teresting creature,  this  Hendrick.  A  dash  of 
Bushman  blood  in  his  veins  had  made  him 
taciturn;  the  pure-bred  Hottentot  is  almost 
invariably  loquacious.  But  I  found  Hendrick 
an  ideal  companion.  He,  too, — without  being 
aware  of  it,  loved  the  desert  for  its  own  sake. 
But  he  delighted  in  seeing  me  make  a  good 
shot,  and  was  almost  pathetically  puzzled  on 
the  occasions  when  I  refrained  from  slaughter. 

Hendrick  did  not  on  that  day  find  it  neces- 
sary to  follow  my  sinuous  spoor,  but  came 
straight  towards  where  he  knew  I  most  pro- 
bably would  be.  On  his  way  he  found  an 
ostrich  nest,  with  the  inevitable  jackal  in  its 
vicinity.  He  had  chased  the  marauder  away, 


THE  ROBBER  AT  WORK        91 

but  the  parent  birds  fled  too, — and  in  all 
probability  Autolycus  had,  even  before  Hen- 
drick  found  me,  returned  to  the  nest  with 
nefarious  intent.  There  was  decidedly 
danger,  for  the  birds,  having  fled  after  being 
disturbed,  would  not  return  before  night. 
Well, — I  determined  to  call  on  that  jackal 
and,  if  possible,  add  him  to  the  category  of 
the  righteous  of  his  species. 

We  soon  found  the  nest.  Yes,  as  I  ex- 
pected, the  robber  had  been  at  work.  He 
must,  in  fact,  have  retired  and  concealed 
himself  when  he  saw  us  approaching,  for  the 
evidences  of  his  crime  were  quite  fresh.  No 
doubt  he  was  peering  at  us  from  some  cover 
close  at  hand  while  we  were  examining  the 
results  of  his  turpitude.  Two  eggs  had  been 
broken;  their  freshly-spilt  contents  were  soak- 
ing into  the  sand. 

We  circled  round,  seeking  for  Autolycus' 
spoor.  How  I  wished  I  had  brought  a  shot- 
gun instead  of  a  rifle.  Ha !  there  was  the 
thief;  he  sprang  from  the  shadow  of  a  large 
tussock  and  ran  diagonally  away,  his  brush 
pointed  contemptuously  straight  at  us.  What 
was  his  objective?  I  saw  it — a  heap  of  ejected 
sand  about  two  hundred  yards  off,  which  he 
was  heading  straight  for,  evidently  masked  his 


92     LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

burrow.  I  sat  down,  adjusted  the  sight  of  my 
rifle  and  drew  the  bead  on  the  heap  of  sand. 

When  he  reached  the  threshold  of  his  refuge 
the  jackal  did  exactly  what  a  long  experience 
of  the  habits  of  his  obnoxious  tribe  had  led  me 
to  expect, — that  is  to  say  he  sank  his  hind- 
quarters into  the  burrow  and  then  turned  to 
look  back,  as  though  in  derision, — his  head, 
chest  and  forelegs  being  exposed.  Crack, — 
and  he  fell  back  and  disappeared.  But  I  knew 
well  enough  that  the  bullet  had  fetched  him ;  I 
heard  its  "  klop  "  distinctly. 

Hendrick  hurried  to  the  jackal's  burrow;  I 
returned  to  the  nest.  The  broken  shells  had 
to  be  removed  and  the  spilt  yolks  sanded  over ; 
otherwise  the  birds  would  most  probably  have 
abandoned  the  clutch.  There  were  three  and 
twenty  undamaged  eggs  remaining.  Having 
put  things  as  straight  as  possible,  I  rejoined 
Hendrick. 

The  jackal  had  disappeared  into  his  burrow, 
but  a  big  gout  of  blood  just  inside  the  entrance 
told  an  unambiguous  tale.  Hendrick  wormed 
his  way  into  the  strait  and  narrow  cavern  as 
far  as  he  thought  he  safely  could ;  he  emerged 
empty-handed,  but  with  traces  of  blood  on  his 
clothing.  However,  Hendrick  was  not  the 
Hottentot  to  forego  a  feast  of  jackal-flesh 


HENDRICK'S  FEAT  93 

without  a  further  effort,  so  he  uncoiled  a  reim 
from  the  head-stall  of  Bucephalus,  tied  one 
end  of  it  round  his  feet  and  gave  me  the  other 
to  hold;  then  he  re-entered  the  dark  portal 
and  passed  out  of  sight.  Just  afterwards  I 
heard,  as  though  from  the  bowels  of  the  earth, 
a  muffled  shout.  I  hauled  strenuously  at  the 
reim  and  Hendrick  emerged,  the  dead  jackal 
in  his  arms.  In  that  cobra-haunted  country  I 
would  not  have  attempted  Hendrick's  feat  for 
a  jackal-skinful  of  gold. 

After  this  useful  piece  of  police-work  we 
rode  back  to  camp  at  an  easy  pace.  Buce- 
phalus always  grew  cantankerous  at  the  smell 
of  blood,  so  the  mortal  remnants  of  Autolycus 
had  to  be  tied  behind  my  saddle, — a  circum- 
stance which  occasioned  a  good  deal  of  chaff 
on  the  part  of  Andries. 

That  night  I  spread  out  my  large-scale  map 
of  South  Africa  on  boards  which  I  had  brought 
for  the  purpose.  It  was  my  wont  to  fill  in 
roughly  any  physical  data  which  I  was  able  to 
determine.  The  air  was  so  still  that  the  flame 
of  a  lit  match  hardly  flickered.  The  vicinity  of 
the  wagon  was  as  bright  as  day,  for  we  had 
built  an  enormous  fire.  The  flame  of  the 
candle-bush  shone  as  clear  as  the  electric  arc, 
and  arose  in  a  tall  pyramid.  Our  shooting  was 


94    LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

at  an  end,  so  we  did  not  mind  our  presence 
being  advertised  throughout  the  desert.  The 
oxen  had  returned  from  Gamoep.  All  pre- 
parations for  a  start  before  dawn  on  the 
morrow  had  been  made. 

After  finishing  my  amateur  map-making,  I 
roughly  measured  with  a  pair  of  compasses  the 
distance  we  had  travelled  from  the  vicinity  of 
the  Copper  Mines.  Thus  I  found  that  if  we 
were  to  travel  only  four  times  as  far,  altering 
our  course  a  little  to  the  northward,  we  would 
reach  Johannesburg.  A  change,  indeed.  How 
great  would  have  been  the  contrast  between 
Bushmanland,  the  abode  of  immemorial 
silence  and  solitude,  and  what  was  probably 
the  most  intensely  active  (in  a  mechanical 
sense)  environment  on  earth.  And  yet,  but  a 
few  short  years  before,  when  I  first  crossed  it, 
the  Rand  lay  as  lonely  as  Bantom  Berg.  But 
now  I  could  almost  hear  the  ten-thousand-fold 
thudding  of  the  stamps, — the  thunderous  ex- 
plosions vexing  the  bowels  of  the  earth — the 
din  of  the  strenuous,  diversified  throng  in  the 
streets. 

They  say  that  men  soon  wear  themselves  out 
in  the  city  of  gold  and  sin;  that  the  grave- 
stones there  are  mostly  those  of  the  young. 
What  is  to  be  the  effect  of  this  burning  fever- 


A  BED  IN  THE  SAND  95 

spot  on  our  body-politic,  of  this — to  change 
the  metaphor — roaring  malestrom-mill  into 
the  hopper  of  which  so  large  a  proportion  of 
the  youth  of  our  country  is  flung? 

But  in  the  nights  that  are  coming, — when  the 
rock-python  pursues  the  coney  along  the 
shattered  pediments  of  the  "  Corner  House," 
the  unchanging  desert  will  lie,  still  void  under 
the  abiding  scrutiny  of  the  stars.  Bushman- 
land  can  never  alter. 

The  fire  dimmed  and  died.  One  by  one  my 
companions  sank  into  slumber.  The  horses 
were  resting, — except  unquiet  Bucephalus, 
who  stamped  and  whinnied  at  intervals.  The 
oxen  lay  tethered  to  their  yokes.  Ever  and 
anon  one  of  them  uttered  the  deep,  pathetic 
bovine  sigh, — that  suspiration  which  seems  to 
express  perplexed  resignation  to  the  selfish 
dominance  of  man, — to  that  hopeless  slavery 
which  is  the  doom  of  the  once-lordly  bovine 
race. 

I  seized  my  kaross  and  climbed  the  steep 
side  of  the  nearest  dune-tentacle.  Then  I 
laboured  along  its  soft,  sinuous  surface  to- 
wards the  gross,  inert  body  of  Typhon,  until 
far  beyond  the  reach  of  camp-sounds.  In  the 
yielding  sand  I  made  a  lair.  In  this  I  laid  me 
down — apparently  the  only  waking  thing  in 


96    LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

Bushmanland,  for  most  utter  silence  reigned. 
Probably  the  soaring  flames  of  our  camp-fire 
had  frightened  away  even  the  jackals  and  the 
night-jars  from  a  wide  surrounding  area.  The 
stars  seemed  to  sink  earthward ;  so  brightly  did 
they  glow  in  the  vault  of  liquid  purple  that 
the  face  of  the  desert  was  masked  in  impene- 
trable gloom.  That  night  the  lips  of  the 
wilderness  had  no  message  audible  to  human 
sense. 

Typhon  slept — coiled  about  the  feet  of  his 
granite  prisoner,  whose  bulk  loomed  menac- 
ingly against  the  wheeling  galaxies.  Did  he, 
the  belted  captive,  sleep,  or  did  he,  haply, 
share  vigil  with  the  one  solitary,  futile  human 
soul  which,  maimed  from  the  stress  of  days 
and  deeds,  claimed  with  him  brotherhood 
through  pain  and  unrest.  But  slumber  seemed 
to  brood  over  the  desert  like  a  dove  and  a  far- 
off  voice  to  whisper  across  the  shrouded  plain  : 
"  Warte,  nur — balde 
Ruhest  du  auch." 


CHAPTER  VI 

HOMEWARD  BOUND — FACES  AROUND  THE  FIRE— THE 
BUSHMEN — PIET  NOONA  AND  THE  SNAKE — THE  LOVE 
OF  THE  DESERT — MY  PREHISTORIC  UNCLE  AND  AUNT 
SCRUPLES — THE  HUNTER*S  INSTINCT. 

THE  ocean-plain  to  the  south  of  Typhon 
and  the  camp  we  had  broken  up,  is  pro- 
bably the  loneliest  among  the  less  fre- 
quented parts  of  Bushmanland.  No  Trek 
Boer  ever  ventures  there  with  his  stock;  the 
hunter  pauses  on  its  undefined  margin — well 
knowing  that  should  he  pursue  the  disappear- 
ing herd  of  oryx  much  farther,  he  and  his  horse 
would  inevitably  perish  of  thirst.  For  even  on 
the  rare  occasions  when  rain  falls  on  this  tract 
no  water  is  conserved  on  its  surface.  Those 
sand-choked,  saucer-shaped  depressions  of 
the  exposed  bedrock  found  in  other  parts  of 
the  desert,  in  which  rain-water  sometimes 
lodges,  do  not  there  exist. 

The  only  people  who  ever  visited  the  area 
in  which  we  sojourned  were  half-breed  hun- 
ters. These  had  developed  abnormal  thirst- 
resisting  powers.  They  usually  occupied  a 


98    LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

.tract  some  hundred  miles  farther  south,  and 
were  incorrigible  poachers  of  ostriches.  By 
means  of  a  flying  squadron  of  boys  mounted 
on  tough  ponies,  these  half-breeds  used  to 
round  up  herds,  comprising  birds  of  all  ages, 
and  mercilessly  slaughter  them  all  on  the  edge 
of  the  Kanya-tract. 

LWe  outspanned  after  a  trek  of  about  three 
hours.  That  night  we  intended  to  take  things 
easy, — at  least  I  meant  to  try  and  persuade 
Andries  to  consent  to  our  so  doing.  The 
wagon  was  lightly  laden,  owing  to  our  having 
consumed  most  of  the  water, — the  heat  had  not 
been  excessive  since  the  oxen  started  from 
Gamoep;  therefore  they  were  not  over-thirsty. 
In  fairly  cool  weather  cattle  bred  on  the 
borders  of  the  desert  often  voluntarily  refrain 
from  drinking  water  for  several  days  at  a  time. 
We  were  homeward  bound  after  a  prosperous 
voyage.  Supper  was  being  got  ready; 
Andries  was  busy  preparing  gemsbok  soup,  in 
which  to  soak  our  rusks.  The  candle-bush 
fire  flared  aloft.  Our  pipes  were  alight  and 
the  peace  of  the  desert  filled  us  with  content. 

Hendrick  and  Danster  had  skinned  the 
second  jackal  which,  in  anticipation  of  the 
arrival  of  Piet  Noona  and  his  nephew  with  the 
cattle,  I  had  insisted  should  be  reserved  for 


THE  ALTAR  OF  DECENCY      99 

that  night's  supper, — for  on  the  night  previous 
we  had  trekked  without  a  halt.  The  flesh  of 
Autolycus  was  soon  roasting  on  the  embers; 
all  our  Hottentots  were  smacking  their  lips  in 
anticipation  of  a  feast. 

I  formally  presented  both  jackal  skins  to 
Piet  Noona's  nephew, — but  under  an  under- 
taking that  they  were  not  to  be  sold  or  other- 
wise alienated.  The  skin  of  the  first  jackal 
was  too  thoroughly  riddled  with  buck-shot  to 
be  of  much  use  to  me ;  that  of  the  second  was 
badly  torn  by  the  bullet.  They  were  to  be 
brayed,  mended,  and  donned  by  the  recipient 
with  as  little  delay  as  possile. 

This  gift  might  have  been  described  as  an 
offering  on  the  altar  of  decency.  I  was  not 
inclined  to  prudery,  but  Piet  Noona's  nephew 
was  beginning  to  grow  up,  and  his  sumptuary 
condition  was  shocking.  In  fact  his  only 
available  garment  was  a  tattered  fragment  of 
sheepskin, — a  fragment  so  scanty  that  it  would 
have  barely  sufficed  to  cover  the  opening  of  a 
porcupine's  burrow.  Even  then  it  could  not 
have  been  guaranteed  to  keep  out  the  draught. 
The  jackal-skins  were  not  large,  but  compared 
with  the  sheepskin  fragment  they  would  have 
been  as  an  overcoat  to  a  child's  pinafore.  I 
explained  how  they  were  to  be  worn  :  one  in 


front  and  one  in  the  rear.  The  coverings  of 
the  hind  paws  were  to  be  joined,  skin  to  skin, 
in  such  a  way  that  the  combined  result  would 
hang  from  the  wearer's  shoulders,  and  the 
brushes  were  to  be  wound  about  his  neck  when 
the  weather  was  chilly.  Piet  Noona's  nephew 
would  thus  be  reasonably  protected,  fore  and 
aft,  both  from  Mrs  Grundy  and  the  weather. 
Crowned  with  a  chaplet  of  Ghanna  leaves  and 
with  his  knob-kerrie  for  thyrsus,  he  might 
have  easily  passed  for  a  youthful  but  disreput- 
able Dionysus. 

As  we  drew  out  towards  the  borders  of  the 
desert  the  fingers  of  silence  seemed  to  press 
less  heavily  on  our  lips.  Supper  over,  we  laid 
ourselves  on  the  soft  sand  and  conversed. 
But  at  first  our  conversation  was  low-toned  and 
very  serious.  The  imminence  of  infinity 
abashed  us ;  it  was  as  though  earth  and  air  were 
full  of  ears  bent  to  catch  every  word  we 
uttered.  I  do  not  think  anyone, — even  the 
most  feather-brained,  could  be  garrulous  in 
the  desert. 

The  flames  lit  up  the  surrounding  faces, — 
the  ruddy,  rugged  countenance  of  Andries, 
with  its  blue,  laughing  eyes  and  cropped  beard 
streaked  with  grey.  The  visage  of  Piet  Noona 
was  like  that  of  an  old  baboon;  his  nephew's 


HUNS  AND  HOTTENTOTS     101 

resembled  that  of  a  young  monkey.  Danster's 
physiognomy  indicated  a  mixture  of  various 
strains ;  the  result  was  quite  insignificant. 

The  Mongolian  features  of  Hendrick  were 
distinctive  and  very  interesting.  What  was  it 
that  his  appearance  suggested ;  not  exactly  the 
Chinaman,  for  his  expression  was  not  at  all 
impassive;  one  could  always  read  his  mood  by 
it.  His  eyes  were  slightly  oblique,  his  cheek- 
bones high,  his  head  was  as  round  as  a  Kanya 
stone.  With  remarkable  muscular  develop- 
ment of  the  chest  and  shoulders,  heavily 
hipped  and  very  slightly  bandy-legged, — for 
long  I  was  puzzled  to  discover  what  is  was 
that  Hendrick  reminded  me  of.  He  loved  a 
horse  and  rode  like  a  Centaur — or  the  man- 
part  thereof.  Then  I  knew  :  it  was  a  Hun  that 
I  was  seeking  for, — one  of  the  locusts  of  that 
Asiatic  horde  which  swept  over  Europe  from 
the  north-eastern  steppes.  I  think  that  Attila, 
the  Eraser  of  Nations,  who  swayed  the  world 
from  his  saddle-throne,  must  have  looked 
somewhat  like  my  scout.  The  most  plausible 
theory  as  ?o  the  origin  of  the  Hottentot  race  is 
that  its  progenitors  migrated  hither  from  Asia. 
Even  van  Riebeek  noticed  the  resemblance 
between  the  aborigines  of  the  Cape  and  the 
Chinese.  Yes,  I  was  almost  certain  that  Hen- 


102  LODGES   IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

drick  was  a  Hun, — or  rather  that  the  tribe  he 
was  mainly  descended  from  and  the  Huns 
were  twigs  from  the  same  bough  of  the  great 
human  tree. 

Hendrick,  to  be  appreciated,  should  have 
been  seen  on  the  back  of  an  unrestrained  or  a 
vicious  horse;  it  was  then  that  he  became  a 
personality.  He  rode  as  gracefully  bare-back 
as  with  a  saddle.  I  could  picture  him  gallop- 
ing away  from  some  sacked  and  smoking  town 
— not  on  raw-boned  Bucephalus,  but  on  some 
thick-set,  shaggy,  steppe-bred  mount.  Hang- 
ing limply  across  his  tense,  gripping  thighs  was 
a  milk-white,  gently-nurtured  Ildico  maiden. 
Her  wide  blue  eyes  were  stony  with  horror, — 
her  golden  hair  dabbled  in  the  sweat  of  the 
horse's  heaving  flank.  She  was  bound  and 
pinioned  with  shreds  torn  from  her  robe  of  lawn. 
The  other  Huns  were  loaded  with  sacks  of 
church  plate,  with  weapons  and  with  merchan- 
dise. But  Hendrick  looked  on  the  face  of  this 
maiden,  the  daughter  of  what,  but  a  few  short 
hours  before,  had  been  a  proud  and  noble  house, 
— and  desired  her  alone.  But  I  think  and  hope 
she  died  of  terror  before  the  bivouac  was 
reached.  Hendrick  was  a  fame,  kindly,  obedient 
hunting-scout,  but  I  am  sure  that  the  fierce,  con- 
quering Hun  lay  sleeping  within  him. 


THE  BUSHMEN'S  REVENGE  103 
There  is  not  a  watering  place  in  the  Bush- 
manland  desert  which  has  not  some  tragic 
story  connected  with  it, — some  reminiscence  of 
a  lonely  thirst-death,  some  tale  having  for  its 
motif  the  shedding  of  blood — usually  by 
treachery.  But  death,  accidental  or  designed, 
was  always  the  theme.  Not  many  miles  from 
where  we  were  camped  that  night  one  of  the 
earlier  Wesleyan  missionaries  travelling  from 
Warmbad  to  the  half-breed  settlement  on 
the  Kamiesbergen  had  been  shot  to  death  with 
poisoned  arrows.  This  happened  early  in  the 
nineteenth  century.  The  murderer  was  exe- 
cuted some  time  afterwards  at  Silverfontein. 
The  first  white  man  who  crossed  this  tract 
did  a  venturesome  thing.  For  although  at 
that  time  the  Bushmen  had  already  been  con- 
siderably thinned  out  by  the  Hottentots  and 
half-breeds,  many  of  them  still  lurked  in  the 
less  accessible  parts.  From  time  to  time  they 
emerged,  singly  or  in  small  parties,  and 
wreaked  a  wild  and  often  quite  inconsequent 
revenge. 

Their  mode  of  attacking  travellers  was  to 
steal  up  at  night  among  the  tussocks  and  dis- 
charge a  flight  of  poisoned  arrows  at  point- 
blank  range,  among  those  surrounding  the 
camp  fire.  They  would  then  immediately  de- 


104  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

camp  and  scatter  in  the  darkness.  Hours 
afterwards  they  might  repeat  the  attack.  If 
the  travellers  were  deep  in  the  desert  the  re- 
petition would  perhaps  be  delayed  until  the 
following  night,  for  the  Bushmen  took  no 
avoidable  risks.  Usually  the  oxen  or  horses 
forming  the  span  would  also  be  slain.  One 
can  imagine  the  plight  of  a  party  of  travellers 
under  such  circumstances :  half  of  them  dead 
or  dying  in  agony,  the  survivors  cowering  in  a 
wagon  as  hopelessly  tethered  to  a  lonely  spot 
in  a  trackless  waste  as  a  wrecked  ship  is 
chained  to  the  reef  that  gores  her  side.  They 
would  have  been  ringed  round  with  drought 
and  famine;  close  prisoners  in  a  solitude  only 
mitigated  by  the  unseen  presence  of  implac- 
able foes,  the  stroke  of  whose  dart  was  as  silent 
and  deadly  as  that  of  the  snake. 

Yet  these  Bushmen  had  sufficient  justifica- 
tion for  all  the  terrible  reprisals  they  perpe- 
trated. They  were  the  original  dwellers  of  the 
soil;  the  Hottentots  came,  dispossessed  them 
of  their  best  water-places  and  slaughtered 
them  without  mercy.  When  they  migrated 
eastward  they  met  the  Kaffirs,  who  proved  a 
more  formidable  and  quite  as  pitiless  a  foe. 
In  the  storming  of  the  Bushmen's  strongholds 
their  women  and  children  were  speared  or 


THE  SPOILERS  105 

flung  into  the  flames.  They  retired  to  the  most 
remote  wastes, — to  the  sheer,  black-chasmed 
fastnesses  of  the  Malutis,  where  snow  lies 
thick  for  months  at  a  time, — to  torrid,  water- 
less deserts.  But  in  every  retreat,  no  matter 
how  remote,  their  foes  sought  them  out.  They 
invariably  made  a  desperate  resistance,  and 
sold  their  lives  dearly. 

But  the  duel  was  between  ferocity  organised 
and  ferocity  deranged,  so  the  former  was 
bound  to  prevail.  It  was  a  struggle  of  the 
clan  against  a  number  of  units  which  had  no 
permanent  cohesion;  whose  combinations  were 
fitful  and  occasional.  There  is  no  god  but 
strength  visible  on  the  checker-board  of  his- 
tory. When  the  mighty  is  put  down  from  his 
seat  it  is  not  the  humble  and  meek  who  is 
exalted,  but  one  whose  strength,  being  of  a 
more  subtle  order,  is  perhaps  not  at  first  recog- 
nised as  such — one  whose  cloak  of  humility 
may  cover  armour  of  proved  temper.  The 
strength  of  the  Bushmen,  perfected  through 
long  ages  of  experience,  was  all-potent  against 
his  one-time  only  adversary,  the  animal.  But 
when  used  against  man,  the  intruder  who  had 
fought  for  his  existence  with  other  men  and 
learnt  in  the  process  the  utility  of  combination, 
it  failed.  The  Bushman  contended  under  one 


io6  LODGES   IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

tremendous  disability :  he  had  no  tribal 
organisation, — the  family  was  the  independent 
unit. 

Piet  Noona's  nephew,  having  had  the  duty 
of  collecting  fuel  assigned  to  him,  carried  a 
considerable  store  of  bushes  to  the  vicinity  of 
the  fire  and  there  heaped  them  together.  With 
the  exception  of  the  "  toa,"  most  of  the  vegeta- 
tion of  the  desert  is  globular  in  form,  and, 
being  usually  rooted  in  more  or  less  soft  sand, 
is  easily  pulled  out.  Andries  reached  over 
and  seized  a  bush-globe;  one  that  was  rather 
denser  and  larger  than  usual.  This  he  flung 
on  the  fire.  Out  of  it  glided,  hissing,  a  snake— 
a  horned  adder.  The  reptile  was  quickly  de- 
spatched. But  upon  seeing  it  Piet  Noona 
sprang  into  the  air  to  a  height  of  about  four 
feet;  then  he  fled  away  into  the  darkness, 
bounding  sideways  as  he  ran  and  shrieking. 
He  had  gone  quite  mad  for  the  time  being. 
This  always  happened  when  he  found  himself 
in  close  proximity  to  a  snake,  and  the  madness 
invariably  manifested  itself  in  the  same  way. 
Years  ago  Piet  had  been  bitten  by  a  puff  adder 
and  narrowly  escaped  with  his  life.  Ever 
since  the  sight  of  a  snake  at  close  quarters 
has  incontinently  thrown  his  brain  out  of  gear. 


A  STRANGE  MALADY  107 

How  far  occasional  bouts  of  brandy-drinking 
at  the  Copper  Mines  has  been  responsible  for 
this  peculiarity,  I  cannot  say. 

Some  months  previously  I  had  played — to  a 
great  extent  unwittingly — a  cruel  trick  on  him. 
I  had  heard  of  Piet's  being  afraid  of  snakes, 
but  had  no  idea  that  his  dread  of  them  was  so 
intense.  One  day  when  he  was  saddling 
Prince  I  laid  a  recently-killed  snake  across 
the  saddle.  The  creature  was  practically 
dead,  but  was  still  squirming  slightly — as 
snakes  are  apt  to  do  for  a  considerable  time 
after  they  have  been  rendered  harmless,  no  mat- 
ter how  badly  they  may  have  been  mangled. 

Piet's  head,  as  he  tightened  the  girth,  was 
under  the  uplifted  saddle-flap.  When  he 
dropped  the  latter  and  found  the  snake  close 
to  his  face  he  sprang  into  the  air  and  fled, 
bounding  sideways  and  every  now  and  then 
striking  his  thigh  diagonally  with  the  palm  of 
his  right  hand.  It  was  a  most  peculiar  and 
uncanny  manifestation.  I  did  not  see  Piet  for 
three  days  afterwards.  Then  he  emerged  from 
the  veld,  red-eyed  and  starving,  but  once  more 
in  his  (comparatively)  right  mind.  That  night, 
as  his  cries  grew  fainter  in  the  distance,  we 
concluded  that  we  should  see  no  more  of  him 
during  the  trip. 


io8  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

Once  more  our  caravan  was  silently  moving 
over  the  trackless  waste.  The  desert  was  now 
in  one  of  her  moods  of  tenderness, — the  air 
full  of  soft  and  subtle  scent  that  was  sweeter 
than  myrrh — more  grateful  than  wafts  from  a 
garden  of  spices.  A  feeling  of  sadness  gripped 
my  heart-strings ;  I  was  leaving  the  mistress  I 
loved — the  mistress  beneath  whose  stern,  arid, 
monotonous  day-mask  I  could  discern  the  fair 
symmetry,  the  soft  and  delicately  -  tinted 
curves  of  perfect  and  eternal  youth.  How 
often  had  I  breathlessly  watched  those 
features  quicken  and  grow  mobile  as  the  de- 
facing sun  departed.  It  was  then  that  the 
breath  of  her  mouth  sought  mine;  then  that 
her  eyes  shone  softly  as  the  evening  star.  But 
it  was  at  full  night,  when  the  great  dome  above 
us  was  unvexed  by  the  least  trace  of  day,  that 
the  desert's  inhabiting  soul  came  forth  and 
transfigured  the  littleness  of  my  cribbed  and 
cabined  spirit. 

Sometimes  for  a  season  she  smiled  as  though 
she  relented,  but  the  smile  was  no?  for  me. 
At  dawn,  when  Zephyr  and  Aurora  couched  at 
the  hem  of  her  robe,  she  let  me  lean  against 
the  softness  of  her  bosom.  At  night  she  lulled 
me  to  sleep  and  crooned  into  my  ear  dream- 
songs  that  were  great  and  strong  with  wisdom 


THE  LOFTIEST  LOVE         109 

gleaned  from  the  most  ancient  seasons.  But 
when  day  returned  she  flung  me  to  the  lions  of 
the  sun.  Should  they  have  mangled  me  to 
death  the  mistress  of  my  worship  would  not 
have  cared.  She  was  too  strong  to  feel  com- 
passion, too  lofty  to  be  moved  by  grief  or 
touched  by  any  regret.  My  beloved  was  not 
mine,  tho'  I  was  wholly  hers,  and  the  lilies  at 
her  breast  were  petalled  with  consuming  flame. 
'''  Who  is  she  that  looketh  forth  as  the  morn- 
ing, fair  as  the  moon,  clear  as  the  sun,  terrible 
as  an  army  with  banners?  "  It  was  the  desert. 
Spinoza's  aphorism  : — "  Those  who  love 
God  truly  must  not  expect  that  God  will  love 
them  in  return,"  roots  deep  in  human  experi- 
ence. The  loftiest  love  is  that  which  gets  not 
nor  expects  requital.  I  used  to  believe  that 
this  desert  I  love  hated  me.  But  I  thought  so 
no  longer.  It  was  not  hate  nor  any  other 
emotion  that  she  felt;  she  was  filled  with  the 
divine  attribute  of  infinite  indifference. 

I  am  subjectively  certain  that  some  ancestor 
of  mine  with  prognathous  jaw,  flat  forehead 
and  enormous  thews,  paddled  over  the  sea  that 
once  filled  these  plains  and  roamed  over  the 
far-separated  hill-tracks.  I  often  saw  him, — 
usually  where  the  stark  mountain  range, — 


no  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

which  in  those  old  days  was  covered  with  ver- 
dure,— arises  like  a  rampart  from  the  northern 
limit  of  the  plains.  I  have  watched  him 
crouching  behind  a  rock  with  a  sling  in  his 
hairy  hand  and  a  stone  axe  slung  to  his  girdle 
of  twisted  thongs, — his  fierce  eyes  bent  on  a 
herd  of  Aurochs  (or  whatever  the  local  con- 
temporary equivalent  of  those  beasts  may  have 
been)  straying  down  to  the  entrance  of  a  cer- 
tain valley.  There  he  had  constructed,  and 
skilfully  concealed,  a  staked  pit.  The  moun- 
tains at  Agenhuis  and  the  high  kopjes  at 
Gaams  and  Namies  were  then  islands,  and  he 
used  to  paddle  from  one  to  the  other  in  a  canoe 
made  of  Aurochs'  hide  stretched  over  boughs. 
In  the  gorge  that  splits  Agenhuis  Mountain  he 
waged  mighty  and  victorious  war  with  such 
dragons  of  the  prime  as  attempted  to  lair 
therein, — for  Agenhuis  was  one  of  his  fav- 
ourite sojourning  places,  and  in  the  days  when 
he  flourished,  dragons  had  not  yet  disappeared 
from  earth. 

In  view  of  the  undoubted  scientific  founda- 
tion upon  which  the  germ-plasm  theory  rests, 
there  is  no  limit  to  be  set  to  atavistic  memory. 
I  am  quite  persuaded  that  this  ancestor  of 
mine  actually  existed;  as  a  matter  of  fact  I 
have  over  and  over  again  seen  him  on  the  hunt- 


A  PREHISTORIC  FAMILY      in 

ing  trail,  attending  to  the  all-important  busi- 
ness of  filling  his  larder.  I  have  watched  him 
as  he  set  forth  in  the  early  morning,  empty  and 
wrathful,  and  as  he  returned  towards  even- 
ing— still  empty  but  laden  with  extraordinary 
spoil  of  antediluvian  meat,  and  whooping  an 
extempore  triumphal  chant. 

He  would  fling  the  meat  down  at  the  mouth 
of  his  cave,  and  bellow  for  the  attendance  of 
his  by-no-means  gentle  mate.  She,  with  the 
fear  of  the  stone-axe  before  her  prehistoric 
eyes,  would  at  once  conceal  the  prehistoric 
baby  in  a  corner,  and  with  almost  feverish 
energy  busy  herself  with  rudimentary  cooking. 
A  big  fire  would  be  already  alight, — the  em- 
bers containing  stones  in  red-hot  readiness  for 
dropping  into  a  pot-shaped  depression  in  the 
cave's  floor,  half-full  of  water.  Into  this  the 
meat  and  the  stones  would  be  flung  together, 
but  in  the  meantime  a  tit-bit  had  been  lightly 
and  hurriedly  broiled,  cleaned  of  ashes,  and 
held  out  to  the  hunter  on  the  end  of  a  long 
stick,  in  a  propitiatory  way.  After  this  had 
been  snatched  and  swallowed  to  the  accom- 
paniment of  savage  growls,  the  cook  seemed  to 
be  more  at  her  ease.  All  this  time  the  baby 
kept  as  still  as  a  mouse.  Prehistoric  babies 
did  not  cry  when  papa  was  about,  and  hungry. 


ii2  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

In  the  exceptional  cases  where  they  did,  it  only 
happened  once. 

I  trust  my  claim  to  such  ancient  lineage  may 
not  be  put  down  to  snobbery.  One  always 
suspects  those  who  dwell  unduly  on  the  deeds 
of  their  ancestors.  But  my  justification  is 
this  : — a  germ  charged  with  an  epitome  of  that 
creature's  stormy  life  has  come  down  to  me 
through  the  generations.  It  remained  dormant 
until  it  met  in  my  brain  some  solvent  which 
disintegrated  its  shell  and  thus  set  the  sleeper 
free.  Garrulous  after  its  long  imprisonment 
the  germ  has  told  the  story  over  and  over  again 
to  all  the  grey  molecules  of  my  cortex.  For 
some  time  most  of  these  have  known  it  off  by 
heart. 

Accordingly  this  ancestor — or  perhaps  for 
the  sake  of  convenience  I  might  term  him  my 
(many  times  removed)  uncle — and  I  have  been 
for  some  time  shouting  to  each  other  across 
the  ages,  until  we  have  attained  to  almost  an 
intimacy.  I  have,  in  fact,  by  this  means,  ac- 
quired many  prehistoric  forms  of  thought. 
As  may  be  imagined  this  has  somewhat  con- 
fused my  ethical  canons.  Much  of  what  I  have 
learnt  is  difficult  to  translate  into  terms  of 
modern  speech. 

I  often  long  with  all  my  soul  to  be  prehis- 


MY  ADMIRABLE  UNCLE       113 

toric  in  certain  matters,  but  the  prim  hand  of 
convention — otherwise  the  unimaginative  pol- 
iceman— holds  me  back.  However,  some  of 
my  uncle's  views  are  still  more  or  less  widely 
held.  He  was,  for  instance,  what  in  modern 
speech  would  be  called  a  strong  Conservative ; 
that  is  abundantly  clear  from  many  of  his 
peculiarities.  But  in  his  day  Imperialism  had 
not  yet  been  born;  there  was  so  far  no  urgent 
necessity  to  provide  for  the  younger  sons  of 
the  aristocracy.  In  fact  there  was  still  room 
in  the  world  for  everybody,  and  as  cultivation 
had  not  yet  been  invented,  there  was  no  such 
thing  as  private  ownership  of  land.  Moreover, 
the  pressure  of  over-population  was  never 
really  felt  until  cannibalism  went  out  of 
fashion,  and  that  happened  only  quite  recently. 

My  uncle  was,  of  course,  an  aristocrat, — 
his  three-fold  patent  of  nobility  being  founded 
on  his  muscular  strength,  his  skill  in  wielding 
weapons  and  his  unique  talent  for  concentrat- 
ing all  the  faculties  of  his  prehistoric  mind 
on  what  I,  his  degenerate  nephew,  would  call 
the  main  chance. 

My  aunt — there  were  several  of  them,  of 
course,  but  you  may  take  your  choice,  they 
were  all  of  the  same  type — was  an  extremely 
practical  woman.  But  she  was  not  a  Suffrag- 

G 


ii4  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

ette — or  if  she  was  she  carefully  concealed  the 
circumstance.  She  was  quite  devoid  of  any 
kind  of  sentiment.  In  the  matter  of  personal 
adornment,  she  affected  the  jewellery  of  the 
period;  this  consisted  of  the  scalps  and  ears 
of  my  husband's  deceased  enemies — more  or 
less  dessicated — and  the  teeth  of  the  same  per- 
sons, bored  through  and  strung  on  thin  thongs. 
Her  wardrobe  was  not  extensive;  in  fact  she 
never  owned  more  than  one  garment  at  a  time, 
and  that  she  only  used  in  cold  weather.  My 
uncle's  hunting  provided  the  material,  so  he 
had  neither  dressmakers'  nor  milliners'  bills 
to  meet. 

My  aunt  was  fiercely  fond  of  her  children 
so  long  as  they  depended  upon  her  for  food 
and  protection.  Afterwards  she  rather  disliked 
them  than  otherwise.  If  one  of  them  after 
reaching  adolescence  met  her  accidenlally 
when  she  took  her  walks  abroad,  that  one 
would  utter  a  howl  of  dismay  as  loud  as  though 
he  had  met  an  angry  odontosaurus,  and  flee, 
leaping  from  side  to  side  to  avoid  the  slung 
stones.  For  my  aunt  also  carried  a  sling;  she 
found  it  far  more  useful  than  a  reticule. 

How  Nietsche  would  have  delighted  in  this 
family;  what  a  joy  it  would  be  to  Mr  Bernard 
Shaw.  I  can  imagine  my  uncle  dining  with 


SLEEP  OR  DEATH  115 

President  Roosevelt, — but  it  would  hardly 
have  done  to  invite  Booker  Washington  to 
meet  him. 

About  two  hours  after  midnight  I  coerced 
Andries  into  being  merciful  and  calling  a  halt, 
for  I  felt  that  I  must  sleep  or  die.  It  was  only 
when  I  had  thrown  myself  prone  on  the  sand 
and  told  Hendrick  to  picket  the  horses  close 
by,  that  Andries  relented.  There  was  really 
no  object  in  pushing  on  at  such  rapid  rate;  by 
making  an  early  start  we  could  easily  reach 
Gamoep  shortly  after  noon  on  the  morrow. 

Both  Danster  and  Piet  Noona  reported  the 
presence  of  springbuck  in  this  vicinity.  Mrs. 
Esterhuizen  would  be  disappointed  and  con- 
temptuous if  we  returned  without  meat  other 
than  the  half-dried  oryx-flesh.  When,  I  again 
asKed  myself,  would  repentance  for  the  crimes 
I  committed  in  slaying  those  beautiful  desert 
creatures  become  final  and  practical,  instead 
of  intermittent?  St.  Augustine  once  put  up  a 
prayer  for  the  grace  of  continence,  but  added 
a  rider  fo  the  effect  that  he  did  not  desire  it  to 
be  granted  immediately.  This  Somewhat  sug- 
gested my  slate  of  mind.  But  I  meant  some 
day  to  lay  down  my  rifle  finally — perhaps  after 
a  particularly  good  bag  or  an  unusually  skilful 


n6  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

shot.  Afterwards  I  should  never  kill  another 
animal — unless  in  self-defence  or  because  I 
badly  lacked  meat.  However,  in  the  mean- 
time, like  St.  Augustine,  I  knew  I  should  con- 
tinue certain  practices  which  my  conscience 
reprehended.  The  hunter's  instinct  is  the  one 
most  deeply  rooted  in  the  mind  of  man;  it  is 
among  those  tendencies  which  persist  after  the 
conditions  which  called  them  forth  have  dis- 
appeared— even  from  memory.  It  is  the  true 
basis  of  that  original  sin  over  which  the  theo- 
logians fumble,  for  in  the  absence  of  other 
available  game  men  hunt  each  other. 

But  I  had,  inconintently,  to  sleep.  And 
hey  —  for  a  gallop  over  the  plains  in  the 
morning. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE   SPRINGBUCK  DRIVE — THE   BUSHMAN   CAVES — RETURN 
TO  GAMOEP. 

MORNING, — and  the  cool  west  wind, 
laden  with  refreshment,  hastened 
over  the  desert's  rim  to  where  I  lay, 
still  on  the  border-land  of  sleep.  The  sweep- 
ing garments  of  the  air-spirit  were  fragrant 
with  the  ichor  of  the  sea  on  whose  breast  it  had 
slept.  Its  sandals  whispered  through  the 
swaying  tussocks,  its  tresses  trailed  over  the 
bending  plumes  of  the  "toa"  shocks.  It 
gently  tried  to  draw  me  back  to  the  mistress  I 
loved  and  longed  for,  but  was  deserting  be- 
cause she  would  have  slain  me  had  I  lingered 
at  her  unpitying  feet. 

At  sunrise  I  gazed  around  for  one  ecstatic 
moment  and  again  sank  to  sleep — to  a  zone 
too  deep  for  dreams  to  haunt.  The  long 
trampings  of  the  previous  two  nights  had  made 
further  slumber  an  almost  absolute  necessity. 
Andries  might  go  hang;  I  would  not  move. 
The  grateful  aroma  of  coffee  wakened  me. 


I  decided  to  breakfast  in  bedj  that  is  without 
emerging  from  my  kaross.  Andries  deter- 
mined to  go  on  with  the  wagon.  Hendrick  and 
the  horses  were  to  remain  with  me;  also  Piet 
Noona's  nephew  who  would,  later,  trot  on  and 
overtake  the  wagon  with  my  kaross  and  panni- 
kin. After  another  hour's  sleep  the  sun  became 
insupportable,  for  the  wind  had  somewhat  died 
down,  so  I  ordered  my  faithful  Hun  to  saddle 
up.  He  had  already  located  a  herd  of  spring- 
buck. It  had  been  settled  that  we  were  to  try 
and  drive  these  near  enough  to  the  track  to 
afford  Andries  some  shooting.  No  one  but 
Hendrick  had  seen  the  game;  he  said  they 
were  too  far  off — away,  ahead, — on  the  left- 
hand  side  of  the  track, — for  us  to  see.  An- 
dries was  to  lie  in  ambush  at  a  certain  knoll, 
while  the  wagon  went  on  to  Kanxas, — there  to 
be  outspanned. 

Hendrick's  powers  of  vision  were  pheno- 
menal; when  objects  at  a  distance  were  in 
question,  no  one  dreamt  of  disputing  his  ver- 
dict. His  eyes  were  equal,  if  not  superior  to 
the  best  prismatic  binoculars  ever  turned  out 
by  Dollond  or  Zeiss,  and  Nature  had  appar- 
ently corrected  them  for  chromatic  and  all 
other  aberrations. 

The  western  hills  could  now  be  distinctly 


A  LINK  WITH  THE  WORLD      119 

seen;  we  might  even  recognise  the  contours  of 
the  ridge  beyond  the  northern  end  of  which 
Gamoep  lay.  Soon  we  should  pass  from  the 
kingdom  of  ancient  silence  to  where  the 
squalid  tents  of  nomadic  men  were  temporarily 
pitched,  —  to  where  the  fat-tailed  sheep 
crowded,  with  anxious  eyes,  around  the  creak- 
ing derrick  and  the  scanty  trough.  But  to  us, 
intruders  as  we  were,  the  desert  had  still  to  pay 
tribute. 

We  started,  Hendrick  and  I,  riding  quietly 
forth  on  a  course  a  little  to  the  east  of  south, 
for  we  had  a  wide  detour  to  make.  I  knew 
the  vicinity  well;  it  was,  literally  speaking,  a 
part  of  the  desert,  but  I  found  it  hard  to  ack- 
nowledge it  as  such,  for  the  reason  that  the 
western  hills  were  in  sight.  These  seemed  to 
link  us  with  the  conventional  world. 

We  passed  over  a  tract  studded  with  small, 
dense  patches  of  low  scrub;  it  looked  like  a 
miniature  archipelago  in  the  boundless  ocean 
of  "  toa."  Here  brown  "  duiker  '?  antelopes 
were  numerous.  So  far  as  I  knew  this  was  the 
only  part  of  Bushmanland  where  such  were  to 
be  found.  As  we  rode  on  the  little  creatures 
sprang  out,  right  and  left,  from  the  patches  of 
cover  and  bounded  gracefully  away. 

Far  to  the  south-west  the  herd  of  springbuck 


120  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

was  now  clearly  visible.  Most  of  them  were 
quietly  grazing  in  the  mild  sunshine.  Now 
and  then  a  few  detached  themselves  from  the 
main  body  and,  one  behind  the  other,  bounded 
away  for  a  few  hundred  yards  on  a  course 
curved  like  the  blade  of  a  scimetar — "  pronk- 
ing"  with  the  sheer  joy  of  unspoilt  life.  After 
such  an  excursion  they  would  rejoin  the  others 
and  go  on  feeding.  And  I  had  come  to  ... 
But  if  I  had  let  Jekyll  climb  to  my  crupper 
Andries  would  have  got  no  shooting.  The 
herd  was  a  small  one ;  it  did  not  number  more 
than  about  six  hundred.  It  was  curious  that 
these  bucks  had  not  joined  in  the  general 
migration  eastward  towards  where  the  light- 
ning had  flashed  its  message  of  rain  a  few 
nights  previously. 

The  springbucks  had  not  seen  us  as  yet,  for 
we  were  still  about  two  miles  distant  from 
them.  The  eyes  of  these  animals  seem  to  be 
specialised  to  a  definite  range  as  the  ear  is 
tuned  to  a  certain  gamut  of  sound.  I  will  en- 
deavour to  explain  what  is  meant  by  this. 
They  do  not  seem  to  notice  anything  at  a 
greater  distance  than  about  fifteen  hundred 
yards.  Conversely,  should  you  be  lying  in 
ambush  and  the  bucks  come  to  within  fifty 
yards  of  you,  they  would  evince  far  less  alarm 


AN  ACQUIRED  INSTINCT      121 

if  you  shewed  yourself  than  on  seeing  you  at 
a  distance  of  from  two  to  three  hundred  yards. 

This  can  easily  be  accounted  for.  The 
springbuck  has  always  spent  its  life  in  an  en- 
vironment of  menace,  but  as  conditions  change 
the  nature  of  the  menace  changes  with  them. 
Formerly  the  danger-zone  for  these  creatures 
was  that  from  which  the  lion,  the  leopard  or 
the  wild  dog  could  spring;  it  was  only  surprise 
at  close  quarters  that  the  springbuck  had  to 
guard  against.  Given  a  few  seconds'  notice 
of  the  approach  of  an  enemy,  this  creature's 
unsurpassed  fleetness  enabled  it  to  laugh  at 
danger.  This  laughter  is  still  expressed  in 
the  manner  in  which  a  small  herd  of  spring- 
buck will  circle  round  and  round  a  pursuing 
dog  that  is  not  especially  swift — as  porpoises 
sometimes  circle  around  a  moving  ship. 

We  know  from  accounts  left  by  the  very  old 
hunters  that  in  early  days,  when  the  killing 
range  of  a  bullet  was  little  more  than  a  hun- 
dred yards,  springbuck  would  graze  with  ap- 
parent unconcern  until  approached  to  within 
about  that  distance.  But  with  the  disappear- 
ance of  the  larger  carnivora  before  firearms, 
and  the  increase  in  the  range  of  the  rifle,  a 
wider  danger-zone  has  been  created,  while  the 
danger  of  an  enemy  at  close  quarters  has  prac- 


122  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

tically  disappeared.  The  width  of  the  danger- 
zone  has  gone  on  increasing  with  th§  longer 
range  of  the  rifle. 

Wild  animals  are  quick  to  learn  and  to  un- 
learn— which  is  not  quite  the  same  as  to  forget. 
Thus  the  springbuck  has  ceased  to  dread  the 
springing  enemy,  the  creature  of  teeth  and 
claws  that  used  to  lie  in  ambush;  in  fact  he 
never  contemplates  the  contingency  of  any 
enemy  at  close  quarters,  and  on  the  rare  occa- 
sions when  he  meets  one,  the  experience 
appears  to  fill  him  with  surprise  rather  than 
alarm. 

The  distance  between  us  and  the  herd  had 
decreased  to  a  little  over  two  thousand  yards, 
so  I  detached  Hendrick  and  instructed  him 
to  alter  his  course  to  the  left  and  endeavour 
to  edge  round  the  still  unsuspecting  animals. 
The  object  was  to  stampede  the  herd  so  that 
it  would  pass  me  on  my  right  and  head  towards 
where  Andries  lay  in  ambush.  Bucephalus 
and  Hendrick  loomed  immense  and  black 
against  the  back-ground  of  yellow  shocks,  but 
they  were  apparently  unobserved  by  the  game, 
for  the  latter  still  grazed  and  "  pronked " 
about  as  though  they  had  the  whole  desert  to 
themselves, — as  though  no  entangling  web 
were  being  drawn  about  them. 


THE  ALARM  123 

Hendrick  had  reached  the  limit  of  his  arc; 
then  the  springbuck  marked  him  and  evidently 
realised  that  there  \vas  danger.  Apprehension 
touched  them;  a  quiver  ran  through  the  herd; 
they  lifted  their  heads  and  gazed ;  they  moved 
to  and  fro.  So  far  it  was  not  fear  that  they 
feltj  for  they  knew  their  own  fleetness  and  had 
trust  in  it.  Then,  suddenly,  terror  seemed 
to  strike  them  like  a  blast,  for  as  dead  leaves 
are  caught  by  a  wind-eddy  and  whirled  in  a 
spiral,  these  imponderable-seeming,  ethereal 
desert  creatures  swerved  over  an  area  resemb- 
ling in  form  the  sweep  of  a  fan,  and  then 
streamed  forth  like  a  handful  of  white  rose- 
petals  before  a  gale. 

Why  is  it,  I  wonder,  that  during  the  fore- 
noon springbuck  in  the  desert  appear  to  be 
white?  For  this  is  literally  the  casej  these 
animals  seemed  to  be  as  white  as  snow,  as  im- 
ponderable as  thistle-down.  The  fawn-tint  of 
their  necks  and  flanks,  the  broad,  brown  pat- 
ches on  their  sides,  the  black,  lyre-formed 
horns, — all  were  drowned  in  the  milky  foam 
of  the  dorsal  manes.  These  were  expanded 
laterally  to  their  fullest  extent;  each  long  sil- 
very hair  stood  erect  and  quivering. 

The  creatures'  heads  were  depressed  almost 
to  the  level  of  their  feet.  With  backs  deeply 


124  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

arched  they  bounded  over  the  face  of  the 
desert  like  so  many  alabaster  discs — mingling, 
separating  and  re-combining  in  a  tracery  of 
flying  arabesques.  They  had  adopted  the  atti- 
tude and  movement  usual  to  their  kind  in  mo- 
ments of  sudden  terror  or  delight.  Surely 
their  flight  was  the  highest  expression  of  grace 
revealed  by  animated  nature  in  motion.  It 
was  a  soundless  melody;  a  symphony  for  the 
eye. 

The  torrent  was  streaming  to  my  right, 
straight  for  Andries.  Hendrick  thundered  be- 
hind,— a  black  Centaur-monstrosity.  How 
terrible  he  must  have  appeared  to  the  fugi- 
tives. I  wished  Hendrick  then  would  trend  to 
his  right,  for  if  the  springbuck  had  swerved 
towards  Kanxas  and  caught  sight  of  the 
wagon,  they  would  have  doubled  on  their 
tracks  and  made  for  the  depths  of  the  desert. 
My  object  was  to  hold  them  on  the  course  they 
were  following  for  as  long  as  possible.  Ha ! 
they  must  have  sighted  the  wagon,  for  they 
wheeled  to  their  right  and  attempted  to  escape 
past  me,  about  three  thousand  yards  on  my 
side  of  where  Andries  lay  waiting  for  his  shot. 
The  terror  of  death  was  upon  them;  their 
manes  were  down — hidden  in  the  constricted 
dorsal  tract.  The  eye  could  hardly  follow 


HEADED  OFF  125 

the  movement  of  their  limbs;  distance  died 
beneath  the  lightning  of  their  feet. 

The  reins  fell  upon  my  horse's  neck,  I 
pressed  my  spurless  heels  to  his  sides ;  he  knew 
what  was  required  of  him.  We  dashed  for- 
ward to  cut  the  herd  off.  While  we  had  to 
cover  a  thousand  yards  the  springbuck  had  to 
cover  nearly  two — yet  it  was  clear  that  they 
must  win  the  race.  When  the  springbuck  runs 
his  best  the  speed  he  attains  is  almost  incred- 
ible. There  remained  but  one  thing  to  be 
done. 

After  having  altered  my  course  so  as  to 
reach  some  slightly  higher  ground,  I  rolled 
from  the  saddle  on  to  the  soft  sand  and  began 
firing — not  at  the  bucks,  but  so  that  my  bullets 
would  strike  some  twenty  or  thirty  yards  in 
front  of  the  leaders  of  the  herd.  Bullet  after 
bullet  scarred  the  ground,  sending  up  spouts 
of  red  sand — now  here,  now  there.  The  herd 
faltered  in  bewilderment,  whirled  round  in  a 
half-circle  to  the  left,  and  headed  straight  for 
the  ambush. 

A  distant  shot — another;  several  in  rapid 
succession.  It  was  the  rifle  of  Andries  speak- 
ing. It  was  Man  taking  toll  of  Nature,  im- 
posing his  age-long  tribute  of  blood  and  pain. 
It  was  Death  eliminating  Beauty  become  obso- 


126  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

lete.  It  was  like  Autumn  shedding  the  petals 
of  a  flower  that  had  lived  its  allotted  day. 

The  hunted  creatures,  in  their  dismay,  com- 
pleted the  circle  of  frantic  effort;  they  sped 
back  to  the  spot  where  they  had  been  dis- 
turbed. They  passed  it;  they  grew  smaller 
and  smaller  until  they  melted  into  the  infinite 
mystery  of  the  desert. 

Three  bucks  had  fallen  to  Andries'  rifle.  I 
dismounted,  and  we  piled  the  carcases  on 
Prince's  patient  back.  Bucephalus,  as  usual, 
grew  frantic  on  being  brought  within  smelling- 
distance  of  the  slain  game.  Then  we  strolled 
to  where  the  wagon  was  waiting  for  us,  at  a 
spot  some  three  miles  away,  close  to  the  head 
of  the  Kanxas  Gorge.  There  we  dined  sump- 
tuously on  roasted  springbuck  liver, — one  of 
the  best  of  desert  delicacies. 

Once  more  I  explored  the  gorge — that  de- 
serted city  which  once  teemed  with  human  life. 
It  was  narrow,  it  was  neither  long  nor  deep ;  a 
mere  scar  it  was  on  the  desert's  flank.  The 
greatest  depth  was  not  more  than  fifty  feet;  it 
was  possibly  a  mile  long  and  the  width  varied. 
The  sides  contained  caves,  on  the  walls  of 
which  could  still  be  seen  traces  of  fires  lit  long, 
long  ago.  And  there,  thickly  traced  on  the 
ledges  was  the  mysterious,  black-pigmented 


PRIMITIVE  PAINTINGS        127 

script — the  groups  of  short,  diagonal  lines 
crossing  each  other  at  various  angles.  What 
did  they  indicate ;  was  nothing  to  be  read  from 
them  even  by  those  who  deciphered  the  graven 
edict,  five-and-twenty  centuries  old,  of  Mesha 
the  Sheepmaster? 

Why  was  it  that  one  did  not  find  at  Kanxas 
pictures  of  the  eland,  the  oryx  and  the  rhino- 
ceros; why  were  there  no  perspectiveless  bat- 
tle-pieces depicting  the  successful  defence  of 
some  cave-stronghold,  with  the  baffled  invaders 
being  hurled  down  precipices?  Such  pictures 
are  found  distributed  over  vast  areas  of  South 
Eastern  Africa ;  it  seemed  remarkable  that  none 
exist,  so  far  as  I  am  aware,  in  Bushmanland. 

Perhaps  the  plants  from  which  the  neces- 
sary pigments  had  to  be  extracted  do  not  grow 
on  that  side  of  South  Africa.  But,  deep  in 
the  Orange  River  gorge  is  a  continuous  strip 
of  rich  and  varied  woodland,  in  which  most  of 
the  South  African  forest  flora  is  represented. 
Moreover,  on  the  islands  which  gem  the  river's 
course  near  its  mouth  are  to  be  found  myriads 
of  eastern  plants,  the  progeny  of  seeds  carried 
down  by  the  annual  flood  from  far-off  Basuto- 
land  and  its  environs, — and  it  is  precisely  in 
lhat  vicinity  that  Bushman  paintings  are  most 
plentiful.  The  thing  remains  a  puzzle. 


128  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

And  the  strange,  highly-evolved  dramatic 
art  of  that  vanished  race, — a  drama  in  which 
human  beings  took  the  parts  of  animals, — how 
often  had  it  not  found  expression  there  in  days 
of  bygone  plenty;  days  when  the  baskets  of 
dried-locust  cakes  crowded  every  ledge  and 
the  children  went  pot-bellied  and  sleek. 

There  was  the  stage;  there  the  auditorium; 
yonder  the  ledge  along  which,  no  doubt,  the 
actors  made  their  exits  and  their  entrances.  .Was 
the  audience  a  critical  one ;  did  it  generously  ap- 
plaud a  nervous  new  actor  of  evident  talent ;  did 
it  hurl  stones,  at  one  who  bungled  his  part  or  tried 
to  make  up  in  pretentiousness  what  he  lacked  in 
ability?  Did  the  author  of  a  successful  play  ad- 
vance to  the  proscenium  and  enjoy  the  tribute 
of  plaudits  paid  to  a  successful  playwright? 

I  fancy  there  must  have  been  a  chorus ;  pos- 
sibly a  semi-chorus  as  well.  Thespis  and 
Aeschylus  probably  adopted  those  obvious 
aids  to  rudimentary  drama  from  the  shepherd, 
— who  is  first-cousin  to  the  savage.  And  the 
more  one  sees  of  various  savages,  belong  they 
to  Bushmanland  or  to  the  Bowery,  the  more 
astonishing  is  the  kinship  revealed  between 
them.  I  could  find  no  box-office — no  gallery 
from  which  the  gods  could  have  jibed.  The 
auditorium  must  have  been  all  pit. 


THE  MAN  EATERS  129 

And  what  dramas  of  real  life  must  have  been 
enacted  in  that  rocky  valley;  what  rudimentary 
idylls  had  not  the  moon  looked  upon  as  her 
slanting  beams  searched  slowly  down  among 
the  rocks  on  summer  nights.  There  men  and 
women  loved;  there  jealousy,  cruel  as  the 
grave,  had  brooded.  There  vengeance  had 
stalked  abroad  and  taken  toll  for  Fate.  Fin- 
ally, from  there — after  an  age-long  struggle — 
Death  had  evicted  Life.  It  was,  after  all,  only 
appropriate  that  the  Kanxas  fountain  should 
have  ceased  to  flow. 

How  often  had  not  some  old  lion — some 
gaunt,  lonely  brute  with  blunted  teeth  and 
claws  worn  to  the  quick,  crouched  among  those 
rocks,  bent  on  spoil  of  the  cave-men?  During 
how  many  nights  of  livid  fear  must  not  the 
horrible  purring  of  the  man-eater,  as  he 
quested  up  the  gorge,  have  sunk  to  the  deadlier 
horror  of  silence.  For  then  every  member  of 
the  little  community  would  have  known  that 
the  prowler  had  at  length  selected  a  dwelling 
from  which  presently  to  drag  a  shrieking 
victim. 

And  later,  the  arch-enemy,  the  more  cruel 
spoiler,  man.  Man — the  spoiler  to-day, — to- 
morrow the  spoiled.  The  European  revenged 
the'  Bushman  on  the  Hottentot;  who  would 
H 


130  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

revenge  the  Hottentot  on  the  European? 
"  For  that  which  hath  been  is,  and  that  which 
will  be  hath  been,  and  there  is  no  new  thing." 
The  thought  made  "  a  goblin  of  the  sun."  "  O 
stars  that  sway  our  fate ;  O  orbs  that  should  be 
very  wise,  for  you  have  circled  the  heavens 
and  regarded  the  earth  from  the  most  ancient 
days, — you  who,  impassively,  have  seen  an 
endless  succession  of  civilisations  arise,  de- 
cline and  die, — when,  and  at  whose  hand,  will 
our  nemesis  come  ?  " 

A  spirit  of  laziness  had  overcome  us  all. 
Andries  lay  fast  asleep  under  the  wagon;  his 
large  frame  was  loosened,  his  placid,  hand- 
some, weather-beaten  face  relaxed.  He  would 
have  looked  just  as  he  did  then,  had  he  been 
dead,  for  his  days  had  been  days  of  quietness 
and  all  his  pathways  peaceful.  Yet  in  that 
man's  deliberate  arteries  flowed  the  blood  of 
those  who  withstood  Alva  in  the  Netherlands, 
and  of  others  who  abandoned  France,  with  all 
that  seemed  to  make  life  worth  the  living, 
rather  than  bend  the  knee  at  the  shrine  of  a 
false  god.  I  wondered  whether  that  large- 
boned,  contented,  easy-going  farmer  were  cap- 
able of  standing  on  the  ramparts  of  another 
Leyden  and,  from  hunger-bitten,  indomitable 
lips  roaring  heroic  and  vitriolic  defiance  at  a 


A  NOBLE  ANCESTRY          131 

seemingly-unconquerable  foe.  ,Would  he 
have  abandoned  honour,  riches,  comfort,  roof- 
tree  and  friends  for  the  sake  of  conscience, — 
that  discipliner  whose  whip-lash  does  not,  un- 
fortunately, bite  as  severely  as  it  once  was 
wont  to  do?  I  wondered,  and  in  wondering 
breathed  one  of  those  wishes  which  are  the 
essence  of  prayer,  that  he  might  never  be  put 
to  the  test. 

The  afternoon  was  young.  I  decided  to 
stroll  on,  ahead.  I  found  Danster  and  Piet 
Noona's  nephew  just  above  the  krantz — pre- 
venting, with  some  difficulty,  the  oxen  from 
stampeding  to  Gamoep,  which  was  now  only 
about  ten  miles  distant.  I  sent  them  back  to  the 
wagon  with  instructions  to  do  the  thing  my 
heart  had  failed  of, — to  waken  a  human  being 
from  that  highest  condition  of  well-being — 
perfect  sleep.  But  it  was  now  time  to  inspan; 
for  the  first  time  since  they  had  last  drunk 
the  oxen  were  really  suffering  from  thirst. 
They,  too,  had  their  rights.  Andries,  more- 
over, was  one  of  those  fortunate  beings  who 
could  slumber  at  will. 

So  I  again  strolled  on.  I  left  the  track  and 
climbed  to  the  top  of  the  Koeberg,  the  hill 
from  which  the  big  beacon — that  farthest  out- 
post of  the  trigonometrical  survey  on  this  side 


132  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

— springs  like  a  startled  finger.  This  .was  one 
of  the  actual  portals  of  the  desert.  I  was  now, 
alas !  once  more  within  sight  of  the  dwellings 
of  men.  Several  tents  had  been  pitched,  and 
quite  a  number  of  mat-houses  set  up  at 
Gamoep  since  we  had  left  it,  a  little  more  than 
a  week  previously. 

I  turned  eastward  and  cast  mournful  eyes 
back  over  the  sun-bathed  immensity  from 
which  I  had  emerged,  and  from  the  deepest 
depths  of  which  sounded  a  call  that  I  knew 
would  for  ever  echo  in  my  soul.  What  a 
strange  regret  it  was  that  tugged  at  my  aching 
heartstrings  .  .  .  ? 

The  wind  had  here  died  down.  The  morrow 
would  be  torrid, — perhaps  with  a  tornado  from 
the  north.  As  the  last  skirts  of  the  sea-cooled 
breeze  trailed  away  into  the  infinite  east,  their 
track  was  marked  by  a  line  of  towering  sand- 
spouts. So  gently  did  these  move  across  the 
plains  that  it  seemed  as  though  they  stood  like 
a  row  of  lofty  columns  sustaining  the  temple- 
dome  of  the  sky.  Yet  a  careful  eye  might 
detect  their  rhythmic  and  concerted  move- 
ment. What  was  the  stately  measure  they 
were  treading, — to  what  sphere-music  did  their 
gliding  feet  keep  time? 

And  then,  O  desert — O  steadfast  face  that 


FAREWELL  TO  THE  DESERT    133 

I  loved — I  had  to  bid  you  farewell.  These 
eyes  would  gaze  upon  you  again,  but  the  day 
was  swiftly  coming  when  I  should  have  to 
take  leave  of  you  for  ever.  But  if  when  the 
body  dies  the  spirit  still  lives,  this  soul  which 
was  nourished  by  your  hand  until  it  grew  to  a 
stature  sufficient  to  enable  it  to  realise  its  own 
littleness,  will  return  and  merge  itself  in  your 
immensity. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  SUMMER  CLOUDS — NEWS  OF  RAIN — START  FOR  PELLA 
THE  VEDIC  HYMNS — DIGGING  FOR  WATER — ARRIVAL 
AT  PELLA — TERRIBLE  HEAT — THE  TRIBE — AQUINAS 
IN  THE  WILDERNESS — THE  MISSION — THE  RIVER 
GORGE — THE  TARANTULA  INVASION. 

THAT  mountain  tract  stretching  like  a 
back  -  bone  through  Namaqualand, 
parallel  with  the  coast  upon  which 
the  Atlantic  ceaselessly  thunders,  is  the  region 
which  catches  the  sparse,  south-western  winter 
rains, — but  which  in  summer  is  the  abode  of 
drought.  On  the  in-lying  Bushmanland  plains 
the  winters  are  quite  arid ;  it  is  only  in  summer, 
when  occasional  thunder-storms  stray  down 
from  the  north-east,  that  the  level  desert  gets 
rain. 

In  a  season  when  the  Storm  Gods  go  forth 
mightily  to  war  on  the  aether  seas,  and  the 
capricious  heavens  are  bountiful,  it  is  a  strik- 
ing experience  to  climb,  on  a  torrid  afternoon, 
some  peak  jutting  from  the  eastern  margin  of 
the  mountain  tract,  and  from  there  to  watch 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  STORM      135 

the  ordered  procession  of  the  thunder-ships  as 
they  sweep  down  from  their  far-off  port  of 
assembly.  Like  great  battle-craft,  black  be- 
neath and  equipped  with  dreadful  artillery, — 
their  dazzling  decks  heaped  and  laden  with 
ocean-gleaned  merchandise  of  crudded  white, 
— they  charge  menacingly  across  the  illimit- 
able plains  as  though  to  overwhelm  the  granite 
ranges.  But  each  stately  vessel  barely  touches 
some  outlying  buttress;  then  the  aery  hull 
swerves  and  changes  its  course  due  south, 
bearing  its  most  precious  freight  to  more  for- 
tunate regions.  It  is  as  though  some  im- 
mense, invisible  fender  were  being  lowered 
from  the  sky  to  guard  the  range  from  the 
shock  of  impact. 

There  came  good  news  from  Bushmanland ; 
thunder-storm  after  thunder-storm  had  trailed 
over  the  plains,  each  marking  its  path  with 
verdure  and  filling  every  rock-depression  with 
water.  The  drought  had  broken,  so  my  long- 
postponed  trip  to  Pella,  that  remote  outpost 
of  French-Roman  Catholicism,  could  be 
undertaken.  Pella  lies  where  the  iron  moun- 
tains, like  a  leash  of  black  panthers,  spring 
from  the  northern  margin  of  the  plains, — and 
then  sink  to  their  lair  in  that  great  gorge 


i36  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 
through  whose  depths  the  Orange  River  swirls 
and  eddies  with  its  drainage  of  a  million  hills. 

We  were  to  travel  with  horses  along  a  route 
I  had  special  reasons  for  wishing  to  take,  but 
which,  had  the  drought  still  prevailed,  we 
would  not  have  dared  to  traverse.  But  under 
the  existing  circumstances  it  would  never  be 
necessary  to  travel  more  than  twenty  miles 
without  finding  a  spot  where  a  water-pit  might 
be  dug. 

So  Andries  brought  his  spring-wagon  in  to 
the  Copper  Mines  and  we  made  busy  prepara- 
tions for  a  start.  Our  wagon-team  numbered 
eight,  four  belonging  to  Andries  and  four  to 
me.  Old  Prince  pulled  as  a  wheeler;  my  two 
young  chestnuts  as  leaders.  Besides  the 
wagon  we  had  another  vehicle, — a  strange, 
springless,  nondescript  contraption  knocked 
together  by  Andries  out  of  the  remains 
of  an  old  horse  -  wagon  which  he  had 
broken  up.  It  had  low,  strong  wheels  set  very 
wide  apart,  with  a  rough  framework  of  yellow- 
wood  boards  superimposed.  There  was  no 
seat,  but  a  box-like  rim  of  woodwork  edged 
the  frame.  To  this  vehicle  four  half-trained 
horses  were  yoked.  It  was  intended  to  be  used 
in  pursuing  springbuck  over  the  plains.  Hen- 
drick  was  to  be  the  driver;  his  task  would  not 


THE  GODS  OF  RAIN  137 

be  an  easy  one.  Andries  owned  a  mob  of  over 
sixty  horses,  the  greater  number  of  which  had 
been  taught  but  the  merest  rudiments  of 
service. 

We  reached  the  outer  periphery  of  the  hills 
late  in  the  afternoon,  and  camped  on  the 
margin  of  the  pale-green  ocean  of  feathery 
"  toa."  Far-off,  to  eastward,  we  marked  the 
rose-litten  turrets  of  a  thunder-cloud.  When 
the  sun  went  down  these  were  illuminated  by 
incessant  lightnings,  symbols  of  destruction 
heralding  the  advent  of  the  only  giver  of  life- 
rain. 

I  had  formerly  been  accustomed  to  bring 
books  to  Bushmanland,  but,  with  one  excep- 
tion, I  did  so  no  longer.  The  exception  was 
Ludwig's  translation  of  the  Vedic  Hymns. 
The  open  volume  of  the  desert,  so  insistent 
to  be  read,  was  sufficient;  nevertheless  those 
large,  primordial  utterances  of  the  Vedas 
seemed  appropriate  whenever  one  was  brought 
into  contact  with  unspoilt  Nature  in  her  vaster 
aspects.  Although  they  originated  under  con- 
ditions very  dissimilar  to  the  local  ones,  the 
Vedic  Hymns  are  tuned  to  the  desert's  pitch. 
In  India,  as  in  Bushmanland,  rain  is  the  para- 
mount necessity.  When  the  rain-gods  forget 
Bushmanland  a  few  thousand  fat-tailed  sheep 


138  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

may  perish;  a  hundred  families  may  have  to 
retire  from  its  margins  and  live  for  a  season 
by  digging  wild  tubers  among  the  granite  hills, 
or  by  robbing  the  ants  of  their  underground 
store  of  "  toa  "  seed.  But  if  a  similar  thing 
happen  in  India,  perhaps  ten  millions  of 
human  beings  die  a  horrible  death. 

In  the  desert, — away  from  man  and  every- 
thing that  suggested  him,  the  Hebrew  Scrip- 
tures seemed  to  be  too  overloaded  with  ethics, 
too  exigent  towards  enlisting  the  services  of 
the  deity  on  the  side  of  tribe  against  tribe. 
But  the  Vedic  Hymnist  was  a  worshipper  who 
imposed  no  conditions  upon  his  gods.  He  had 
passionately  realised  the  fundamental  fact  that 
his  own  continued  existence,  as  well  as  that  of 
all  organic  life,  depended  upon  the  beneficient 
fury  of  the  sky,  so  he  offered  awed  and  uncon- 
ditioned adoration  to  Indra,  Agni  and  the 
"  golden-breasted "  Storm  Gods  through  a 
symbolism  of  sincere  and  homely  dignity. 
Submissive,  he  accepted  death  or  life,  the 
thunder-bolt  or  the  Soma-flower, — the  drought 
that  slew  its  millions  or  the  rain  that  brought 
a  bounteous  harvest. 

We  started  at  break  of  day.  Although  rain 
had  fallen,  we  felt  it  necessary  to  plan  our 
course  carefully,  for  water  was  only  to  be 


DIGGING   FOR  WATER        139 

found  in  the  sand-covered  rock-depressions — 
and  these,  albeit  more  than  ordinarily  frequent 
in  that  section  of  the  desert  over  which  our 
route  lay,  were  nevertheless  few  and  far  be- 
tween. The  weather  was  hot;  therefore  the 
horses,  unlike  oxen,  had  to  drink  at  least  once 
a  day.  Even  where  it  existed,  water  could 
only  be  obtained  by  digging  to  a  depth  of  from 
five  to  eight  feet ;  then  it  had  to  be  scooped  up 
in  pannikins  after  having  trickled  in  from  the 
sides  and  collected  at  the  bottom  of  the  pit. 
Thus,  even  under  favourable  conditions,  it  took 
about  two  hours'  hard  work  to  provide  sufficient 
water  to  quench  the  thirst  of  twelve  animals. 

With  cocked  ears  and  anxious  looks  the 
horses  would  crowd  to  where  the  smell  of  wet 
sand  told  them  that  relief  was  near;  it  became 
necessary  to  keep  them  off  with  a  whip.  Once 
I  narrowly  escaped  being  badly  hurt  owing  to 
a  mule  flinging  itself  into  a  pit  in  which  I  was 
digging  for  water. 

We  decided  not  to  delay  on  our  forward 
journey;  therefore  the  various  herds  of  game 
seen  in  the  distance  were  not  interfered  with. 
We  intended,  after  finishing  our  business  at 
Pella,  to  seek  out  some  temporary  oasis  favour- 
ably situated,  pitch  our  camp  there  and  spend 
a  few  days  shooting  in  the  vicinity. 


140  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

On  the  forenoon  of  the  fourth  day, — a  day 
of  terrible  heat,  we  sighted  the  mission  build- 
ings of  Pella  in  the  far  distance.  These  stood 
on  a  limestone  ridge  in  a  crescent-shaped  bend 
of  that  stark  range  of  mountains  on  the 
northern  side  of  which  the  Orange  River  has 
carved  its  tremendous  earth-scar.  Here  the 
colour  of  the  mountains  changed;  they  were 
no  longer  jet  black  as  I  had  found  those  a 
hundred  miles  to  westward,  but  a  deep  choco- 
late brown.  From  Pella  ran  a  steep  ravine 
which  cleft  the  range  almost  to  its  base.  Down 
this  a  crooked  track  led  to  the  river,  which 
was  said  to  be  about  nine  miles  away. 

It  seemed  as  though  we  should  never  reach 
the  mission ;  the  trek  over  red-hot  sand  through 
which  angular  chunks  of  limestone  were 
thickly  distributed,  seemed  interminable  in  the 
fierce  heat.  But  at  length  the  journey  ended, 
and  the  panting  horses  were  released  for  their 
sand-bath,  preliminary  to  a  much-needed 
drink.  The  half-dozen  low  houses  of  the 
mission,  built  of  unburnt  brick  and  livid  grey 
in  colour,  lay  huddled  around  the  unfinished 
walls  of  what  was  intended  to  eventually  be  a 
church.  That  bare,  sunscourged,  glaring  ridge 
which  had  been  selected  as  the  site  for  the 
institution  lacked  every  attribute  tempting  to 


SUFFOCATING  HEAT          141 

man — save  one :  and  that  the  all-essential, — 
water.  For  thither,  to  the  midst  of  a  howling 
desolation,  Nature,  in  one  of  her  moods  of 
whimsical  paradox,  had  enticed  from  the 
depths  a  spring  of  living  crystal.  Through 
torrid  day  and  frosty  night, — through  short, 
adventitious  rainy  season  and  long,  inevitable 
period  of  aridity  which  filled  man  and  brute 
with  dismay, — "  ohne  hast,  ohne  rast "  the 
gentle  fountain  welled  out,  cold  and  clear.  It 
seemed  as  though  some  spirit  whose  dwelling 
was  deep  in  a  zone  untroubled  by  the  moods 
of  the  changeful  sky  stretched  forth  a  pitiful 
hand  to  touch  the  scarred  forehead  of  the 
waste  with  comfort  and  with  healing. 

The  heat  in  the  wagon  had  been  a  burthen 
and  almost  a  misery,  yet  I  was  able  to  sustain 
it  while  we  were  in  motion.  But  the  stillness 
of  the  atmosphere  and  the  glare  from  the  lime- 
stone surrounding  the  mission,  made  one  des- 
perate. Shade — coolness — where  were  they  to 
be  found?  Even  mere  darkness  would  have 
been  a  relief.  I  sought  refuge  under  a 
verandah,  but  got  no  assuagement.  I  longed 
for  some  corner  into  which  to  creep — for  some- 
where to  hide,  if  only  from  the  blistering  light. 
Father  Simon,  the  Director  of  the  Mission, 
kindly  vacated  his  house  and  placed  it  at  my 


142  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

disposal.  The  building  contained  but  one 
room. 

I  entered  and  closed  the  door.  For  a  few 
seconds  the  darkness  brought  a  sense  of  ease- 
ment, but  the  closeness,  the  thick  stagnation 
of  the  air,  made  me  gasp.  And  the  heat  was 
nearly  as  bad  as  it  was  outside.  How  was 
that?  I  put  my  hand  to  one  of  the  clod-like 
bricks  of  which  the  walls  were  built.  It  was 
quite  uncomfortably  hot  to  the  touch ;  the  force 
of  the  sun  had  penetrated  it. 

Something  approaching  despair  seized  me; 
it  was  then  nearly  noon — could  I  live  through 
another  six  hours  of  such  torture  ?  I  began  to 
speculate  as  to  what  were  the  initial  symptoms 
of  heat-apoplexy.  The  labouring  blood  thun- 
dered in  my  ears ;  I  felt  perilously  near  delirium. 
It  was  as  though  one  were  being  suffocated  in 
the  cellar  of  a  burning  house.  I  stripped  off  my 
clothes  and  grovelled  naked  on  the  clay  floor, 
seeking  relief  in  cobwebby  corners.  In  the 
gloom  I  caught  sight  of  a  bucket  of  water.  I 
tore  a  sheet  from  the  bed,  soaked  it  and  wrapped 
it  around  me.  In  all  my  life  I  had  never  felt  in 
such  physical  extremity.  However,  lying  on 
the  ground  wrapped  in  the  wet  sheet  brought  a 
measure  of  relief.  But  the  miseries  of  that  day 
will  never  be  forgotten. 


A  VARIABLE  TEMPERATURE     143 

At  length  the  sun  went  down — sank  in 
golden  ruin  among  the  fang-like  peaks  of  the 
umber-tinted  western  mountains.  Soon  the 
quivering  earth  flung  off  its  Nessus-garment 
and  a  delicious  interval  followed.  But  shortly 
after  nightfall  the  chilliness  of  the  air  be- 
came so  uncomfortable  that  I  overhauled  my 
belongings  in  the  wagon,  seeking  a  warmer 
coat.  Father  Simon,  with  a  smile,  produced 
his  thermometer;  the  mercury  stood  at  86 
Fahr.  I  learned  that  five  hours  previously  it 
had  reached  119  in  the  shade. 

Next  day  brought  practically  no  diminution 
of  temperature ;  but  somehow  I  seemed  to  have 
acquired  resisting  power.  The  fear  of  possible 
collapse,  even  of  death,  which  came  upon  me 
the  previous  day,  had  gone.  Perhaps  the 
fatigues  of  the  long  journey — more  especially 
the  heavy  digging  in  the  water  pits — may  have 
lowered  my  vitality.  Presently  we  had  another 
severe  ordeal  to  undergo,  for  we  decided  to 
make  our  way  down  the  gorge  and  spend  a 
night  on  the  bank  of  the  river.  It  seemed  as 
though  it  would  be  like  descending  to  the 
Gehenna-pit. 

But  first  to  bend  an  examining  eye  upon  that 
strange  community  of  men  and  women, — those 
adventurers  from  the  Old  World  to  a  world 


144  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

immeasurably  older  and  less  changeful.  So  far 
as  I  could  gather,  the  personnel  consisted  of 
three  priests,  four  lay-brothers  and  five  nuns. 
It  was  to  those  women  that  my  pity  went  out; 
they  were  so  pallid,  so  debilitated, — so  incon- 
gruous with  their  surroundings.  As  they 
flitted  silently  about,  busied  with  hospitable 
service  towards  the  guests,  their  hands  looked 
like  faded  leaves.  How  the  conventual  habit, 
albeit  the  material  had  been  lightened  to 
accord  with  local  conditions,  must  have 
weighed  them  down.  The  low-roofed,  livid- 
grey  brick  building  in  which  they  lived  must 
have  got  heated  through  and  through  as  Father 
Simon's  dwelling  did.  One  of  those  nuns  had, 
so  I  was  told,  lost  her  reason  and  was  shortly 
to  be  removed.  Their  lot  must  have  been  one 
of  continuous  martyrdom. 

Father  Simon  was  suave  in  manner;  I  could 
judge  him  to  be  shrewd  and  clear-headed; 
evidently  he  was  a  man  of  affairs.  His  pallor 
was  apparently  congenital ;  it  by  no  means  sug- 
gested physical  weakness.  Salamander-like, 
he  had  habituated  himself  to  the  torrid  climate. 
Like  an  Arab  chief  he  ruled  his  clan  of  about 
two  hundred  subjects.  This  was  as  mixed  a 
lot  of  human  beings  as  one  would  find  any- 
where— even  in  South  Africa,  that  land  of 


THE  PELLA  MISSION          145 

varied  human  blends.  Among  them  were 
pure-bred  Europeans, — some  bearing  names 
held  in  honour  from  Cape  Town  to  Pretoria. 
Others  were  frankly  black, — and  there  were  all 
intermediate  shades. 

Just  then  the  mat-houses  of  the  tribe  were 
pitched  at  one  of  the  outlying  water-places; 
I  did  not  learn  how  far  off,  for  distance  is  an 
unimportant  detail  in  the  desert.  But  it  was 
some  place  where  a  thunder-storm  had  recently 
burst  and,  therefore,  where  pasturage  existed. 
The  wealth  of  the  community  consisted  of  fat- 
tailed  sheep,  horses,  goats  and  a  few  cattle. 
The  Pella  lands  were  held  by  the  Mission  on 
ownership  tenure;  consequently  the  Superin- 
tendent was  an  autocrat.  A  community  of  that 
kind  was  as  little  fitted  to  govern  itself  as  a 
reformatory  would  have  been.  The  territory 
over  which  Father  Simon  held  sway  contained 
all  the  water-places  which  were  to  be  found 
in  that  corner  of  the  desert.  The  water  in  some 
of  these  was  permanent,  the  severest  drought 
occasioning  no  diminution  in  its  flow.  It  was 
this  circumstance,  more  than  anything  else, 
which  rendered  the  autocracy  effective. 

Acceptance  of  the  forms  of  the  Roman 
Catholic  ritual  was  the  only  condition  of 
membership;  faith  appeared  to  be  taken  on 


146  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

trust.  It  was  told  me  that  when  Bushmanland 
happened  to  be  blest  with  a  few  consecutive 
good  seasons,  scruples  on  points  of  dogma  be- 
came prevalent  and  the  tribe  thinned  out.  But 
when  the  inevitable  drought  recurred,  the 
doubters  repented,  returned  to  the  forgiving 
bosom  of  Mother  Church  and  recommenced, 
with  more  or  less  fervour,  the  practice  of  their 
religious  duties.  I  was  shewn  one  patriarch 
who,  with  his  numerous  family,  had  three  times 
fallen  from  grace  and  had  as  often  been  re- 
ceived back  as  an  erring  but  repentant  sheep. 

Besides  Father  Simon  and  the  nuns  I  met 
only  two  members  of  the  community  who  in- 
terested me.  One  was  an  elderly,  thickset 
priest  with  a  dense,  brown  beard.  I  found 
him  sitting,  in  a  dingy  hut,  at  a  packing-case 
table.  He  was  smoking  an  extremely  black 
pipe  and  reading  at  an  early  iyth  Century 
folio  of  Thomas  Aquinas.  His  person  was 
generally  unclean;  his  coarse,  stumpy  hands 
were  sickening  to  look  upon. 

The  reading  was  clearly  a  pretence;  from 
^  the  appearance  of  the  volume  I  should  say  it 
had  not  been  previously  opened  for  a  very  long 
time.  I  felt  instinctively  that  Father  Simon, 
too,  knew  this,  for  he  addressed  a  few 
sentences  in  French  to  the  reader, — speaking 


A  STUDENT  OF  AQUINAS      147 

in  a  low,  even,  firm  voice.  At  once  the  folio 
was  closed  and  put  back  on  a  cobwebby  shelf. 

The  episode  interested  me;  I  sympathised 
with  that  priest.  In  spite  of  his  unsavoury 
physical  condition  my  heart  went  out  to  him. 
His  life  must  have  been  appallingly  empty,  for 
he  had  not,  like  Father  Simon,  the  saving 
grace  of  responsibility  and  the  opportunity  of 
expressing  his  individuality  in  administrative 
work.  He  was  nothing  but  a  more  or  less 
superfluous  cog  in  the  wheel  of  a  cranky 
machine  driven  by  a  despotic  hand.  The 
Adam  within  him  cried  out  for  an  opportunity 
of  attracting  the  attention  of  the  only  visitor 
from  the  outside  world  he  was  likely  to  see  for 
the  next  six  months.  I  found  that  little  trifle 
of  deception  very  human — very  pitiful.  I 
wonder  did  he,  after  all,  read  his  Aquinas  at 
times ;  perhaps  he  did.  But  I  fear  his  develop- 
ment would  rather  have  been  in  the  direction 
of  the  "  dumb  ox  "  than  towards  the  angels. 
Poor,  lonely,  unwashed  human  creature. 

The  only  way  to  save  one's  soul  alive  in  the 
desert  is  to  wrestle  with  and  Overcome  diffi- 
culties— as  Jacob  wrestled  with  the  angel,  and 
all  the  cobwebs  ever  spun  by  all  the  School- 
men would  not  give  so  much  strength  to  the 
human  spirit  as  a  gallop  of  ten  miles  over  the 


148  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

plains,  among  the  whispering  shocks  of  the 
"  toa."  That  this  was  the  case  was  evinced 
by  a  young  lay-brother  with  whom  I  was  able 
to  converse  in  Dutch.  He,  of  peasant  origin 
and  with  quite  a  lot  of  fire  glowing  through  his 
clay,  found  scope  for  his  abounding  energies 
in  looking  after  the  stock  belonging  to  the 
Mission  and  generally  carrying  on  the  outside 
administrative  work.  It  was  he  who  shep- 
herded the  tribe  from  one  water-place  to 
another;  it  was  he  who  took  venturesome 
journeys  across  wide  stretches  of  desert  for  the 
purpose  of  reporting  as  to  the  condition  of  the 
pasturage  surrounding  the  far-outlying  oases. 

This  man  was  brown  and  muscular;  his  eye 
was  steady  and  masterful — because  his  life 
was  spent  in  action,  not  in  futile  dreaming. 
If  he  should  have  looked  upon  one  of  the 
daughters  of  the  desert  and  found  her  fair,  I 
would  not  have  given  much  for  his  vocation. 
I  sincerely  hoped  he  might  do  so.  The  daugh- 
ters of  the  desert  are  not,  as  a  rule,  comely — 
but,  after  all,  beauty  is  relative.  I  imply  noth- 
ing discreditable;  this  man  had  taken  no  irre- 
vocable vow  of  celibacy. 

The  Pella  Mission  was  engaged  in  the  hope- 
less task  of  endeavouring  to  make  oil  and 
water  mix — or  rather,  to  change  the  metaphor 


A  VAIN   ENDEAVOUR          149 

— to  graft  an  archaic  but  vigorous  and  highly- 
specialised  organism  upon  a  rudimentary  one 
of  thin  blood  and  low  vitality.  A  creed  rooted 
in  and  nourished  by  the  most  ancient  human 
traditions  could  not  possibly  develop  among 
people  who  possessed  no  traditions  and  had 
not  enough  positive  original  sin  in  them  to 
make  their  asthenic  souls  worth  the  saving. 

On  this  desert  tract  where  men  are  blown 
to  and  fro  by  the  fiery  breath  of  recurrent 
drought,  they  should  be  left  to  sink  in  the  sand 
or  swim  in  the  aether, — to  develop  body  and 
soul  of  a  tenacious  fibre,  or  else  to  be  elimin- 
ated by  the  adverse  conditions  under  which 
they  exist.  Subject  to  tuition,  kept  erect  by 
outside  support,  they  must  presently  stagnate 
and  ultimately  perish.  From  my  point  of  view 
their  preservation  was  not  nearly  so  important 
as  that  of  the  herd  of  oryx  I  was  endeavouring 
to  protect  from  its  legioned  enemies  in  central 
Bushmanland. 

But  the  case  of  the  Pella  tribe  was  hope- 
less. Could  these  people  have  gone  to  war, 
had  the  desert  they  inhabited  been  ten  times 
as  wide  and  had  its  bounds  contained  tribes 
that  raided  one  another,  and  thus  made  valour- 
cum-skill-in-arms  the  alternative  to  extinction, 
they  might  have  developed  positive  virtues 


150  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

and  vices.  They  might  even  have  lifted  their 
eyes  to  the  stars  and  uttered  songs  of  love  and 
death. 

The  blistering  sun  of  noon  was  almost  over 
our  heads  when  we  started  on  our  pilgrimage 
to  the  river.  A  crooked  pathway  choked  with 
sand,  into  which  one's  feet  sank  deep  at  every 
step,  led  down  the  wedge-formed  cleft  between 
the  towering  mountains.  We  found  the  course 
fatiguing  in  the  descent;  what  would  it  be 
when  we  came  to  retrace  our  steps?  As  we 
proceeded  the  gorge  bent  to  the  right  and  the 
glowing  cliffs  closed  in. 

At  length  the  stupendous  mountain  range  on 
the  other  side  of  the  river  again  sprang  into 
view.  Soon  we  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  rich- 
green  forest  strip  which  fringed,  on  either  side, 
the  wide  course  of  the  stream.  There  at  least 
we  would  find  shade.  The  heat  had  become 
frightful ;  it  was  as  though  one  breathed  flame. 

We  reached  the  river  bank.  The  great 
torrent  of  a  few  weeks  back  had  shrunk  to  a 
network  of  rivulets  which  swirled  and  eddied 
among  the  rocks  and  islanded  sand-banks  with 
a  soothing  murmur.  The  trees  just  there  had 
been  much  thinned  out;  in  places  the  under- 
growth had  completely  disappeared, — eaten 


THE    HOME   OF   CHAOS       151 

away  by  the  stock  which  was  sent  thither  in 
seasons  of  exceptional  drought.  A  recent 
freshet  had  carpeted  the  shaded  ground  with 
soft,  white  sand.  A  dip  in  the  tepid  water 
refreshed  one;  the  gentle,  lapping  wavelets 
whispered  of  coolness  to  come.  But  the  river, 
so  gentle  that  day,  could  at  times  arise  like  a 
wrathful  Titan.  In  a  high  cliff-crevice  hung  a 
large  tree-trunk  flung  up  and  wedged  there 
during  some  recent  flood. 

Who  could  paint  the  terrific  desolation  of 
that  home  of  chaos, — the  towering  peaks,  the 
jutting  ledges,  the  Cyclopean,  bulging  pro- 
tuberances? That  amphitheatre  was  surely 
the  haunt  of  some  ferocious,  inimical  Nature- 
spirit — brother  to  Death  and  a  hater  of  Life. 
Yet  life  flourished  even  here,  for  the  river,  like 
a  mother  holding  her  children  with  tender 
clasp,  led  westward  her  progeny  of  trees  over 
strait  and  perilous  pathways.  But  the  feet  of 
the  brood  dared  not  stray  from  the  hem  of  her 
garment. 

The  sun  sank;  as  the  glare  was  withdrawn 
each  salient  detail  of  the  Titanic  arena  grew 
clearer  and  more  definite  against  the  back- 
ground of  darkening  blue.  Then  shadow 
gathered  all  into  her  fold,  and  it  was  upon  a 
pit  whose  black  sides  threatened  to  fall  in  and 


152  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

crush  us,  that  the  stars  of  the  zenith  looked 
down. 

It  was  deep  in  the  night,  but  the  heat  still 
raged,  for  the  sides  of  the  glowing  rock-pit  in 
which  we  lay  continued  to  radiate  what  energy 
they  had  absorbed  while  the  sun  still  smote  on 
them.  We  had  emerged  from  among  the  trees 
and  built  a  large  fire  of  drift-wood  on  a  sand- 
bank,— our  object  being  to  obtain  illumination. 
It  was  quite  necessary  to  have  a  bright  light; 
from  many  of  the  logs  poisonous  centipedes, 
and  an  occasional  scorpion,  were  emerging. 
But  even  comparatively  close  to  the  fire  we 
could  feel  no  increase  of  heat.  My  gun  stood 
against  a  stone  some  distance  away.  I  picked 
the  weapon  up,  but  involuntarily  dropped  it,  for 
the  barrel  almost  scorched  my  hand.  And  this 
at  nearly  midnight ! 

But  what  were  those  creatures  darting  here 
and  there;  anon  rushing  towards  us  over  the 
livid  surface  of  the  sand?  Horror.  They 
were  tarantulas, — red,  hairy  creatures,  larger 
than  mice.  Within  a  few  seconds  there  were 
hundreds  of  them  circling  around  the  fire  with 
almost  incredible  swiftness.  The  firelight  had 
attracted  them  from  the  cliff-chasms  which 
yawned  around  us. 

This  was  too  much  for  flesh  and  blood  to 


A   HORRIBLE   INVASION       153 

endure,  so  I  beat  a  retreat  to  the  river  and 
waded  out  until  I  reached  a  flat  rock.  This 
proved  to  be  uncomfortably  hot,  but  the  soles 
of  my  boots  were  thick,  and  I  could  every  now 
and  then  cool  them  in  the  water.  However,  a 
few  yards  away  lay  a  small  island  of  sand,  and 
on  this  I  took  refuge.  From  my  retreat  I 
could  see  the  fire  and  its  environs.  I  did  not 
think  Africa  contained  so  many  tarantulas  as 
were  then  visible.  They  had  the  fire  to  them- 
selves, for  every  member  of  the  party  had  fled. 
The  air  still  felt  as  though  one  were  in  a 
closed  room.  But  the  murmur  of  the  river  be- 
came audible  to  an  increasing  degree  on  the 
western  side,  and  soon  a  hot  breath  of  air 
struck  us.  After  a  fitful  succession  of  puffs  a 
continuous  wind  set  in, — a  steady  current, 
momentarily  growing  cooler.  This  was  the 
sea-breeze  stealing  up  the  river  gorge  from  the 
far-off  Atlantic,  rolling  the  mass  of  heated  air 
before  it  and  cooling  the  piled  rocks, — helping 
them  to  fling  off  the  yoke  of  torment  put  upon 
them  by  the  cruel,  arrogant  sun.  Soon  the 
temperature  began  to  fall  rapidly,  so  I  waded 
back,  made  a  wide  detour  so  as  to  avoid  the 
tartantula-infested  area,  and  fetched  my 
kaross  from  where  it  lay  among  the  trees.  I 
then  returned  to  my  sand-islet  and  there  sank 


154  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

into  blessed  sleep  with  the  tepid  water  mur- 
muring within  a  few  feet  of  my  weary  head. 

I  awoke  soon  after  3  A.M.  The  wind  had 
turned  perishingly  cold, — so  cold  that  I  de- 
cided to  retire  from  my  exposed  situation  and 
seek  for  some  spot  more  or  less  sheltered  from 
the  streaming  air-current.  So  I  once  more 
waded  back  through  the  tepid  water  and 
sought  a  refuge  among  the  trees.  The  fire  was 
still  alight;  I  had  to  pass  it.  Not  a  single 
tartantula  was  visible;  no  doubt  they  had  re- 
tired to  their  lairs  among  the  rocks  on  account 
of  the  fall  in  the  temperature.  Yet  I  do  not 
suppose  the  latter  was  below  80  Fahr. ;  the 
susceptibility  of  one's  skin  is  relative ;  my  dis- 
comfort was  due  to  the  sudden  change.  I 
wished  I  had  not  left  my  thermometer  at  the 
wagon ;  it  would  have  been  interesting  to  take 
a  reading  at  midnight. 

Once  more  I  fell  asleep,  with  the  tree-trunks 
groaning  around  me,  as  the  boughs  swayed  in 
the  ever-freshening  gale. 


CHAPTER  IX 

MORNING  IN  THE  GORGE — DEPARTURE  FROM  PELLA — 
JOURNEY  TO  BRABIES — PROTECTION  OF  THE  ORYX — 
— ITS  PECULIARITIES — ANTELOPES  OF  THE  DESERT  AND 
THE  FOREST — CAMPING  AT  BRABIES. 

DAYBREAK,— and  the  chill  sea-wind 
was  still  surging  up  the  gorge.  It  was 
delightful ;  nevertheless,  even  among  the 
sheltering  trees,  a  fire  was  very  comforting. 
The  pageant  of  growing  day  was  a  wonder  and 
a  delight.  The  upper  tiers  of  that  titanic 
rock-city  became  glorious  "  under  the  opening 
eyelids  of  the  morn."  They  were  refulgent 
with  hitherto  unsuspected  beauty.  Those 
acre-large  splashes  of  vermilion,  blue  and 
amber-brown  must  have  been  due  to  lichen.  It 
was  strange  that  on  the  previous  evening  we 
had  not  noticed  these.  Perhaps  they  paled 
under  the  flames  of  day  and  only  revived  when 
the  cool,  moist  sea-wind  bathed  them. 

After  a  hurried  dip  in  the  still-tepid  water, 
followed  by  breakfast,  we  started  on  our 
journey  back  to  Pella.  The  wind  sank 
momentarily,  but  the  air  was  still  deliciously 


156  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

cool,  for  the  bow  of  the  sun-archer  could  not 
yet  be  depressed  enough  to  send  its  searching 
arrows  into  the  depths  of  the  cleft  through 
which  our  course  lay.  Soon  the  sea-wind 
folded  its  wings;  not  a  breath  stirred.  From 
their  eyries  in  the  towering  rock  bastions  the 
brown  eagles  swooped  down  as  though  to  rend 
us,  uttering  wild  and  menacing  cries. 

The  relentless  sunbeams  searched  ever 
lower  upon  the  western  face  of  the  chasm. 
From  the  crannies  gorgeous-hued  lizards  crept 
forth  to  bask.  Their  lovely  colours — vivid 
crimson  or  deep,  gentian  blue  seemed  incon- 
gruous with  their  ungainly  form  and  ferocious 
expression.  Here  and  there  rock-rabbits 
darted  from  ledge  to  ledge.  Crossing  our 
sandy  pathway  we  occasionally  noticed  the 
spoor  of  a  leopard,  a  badger  or  a  snake.  For 
such  creatures  night  is  the  season  of  activity; 
by  day  they  could  choose  the  climate  best 
suited  to  them, — among  the  deep,  dark  cavern- 
clefts  with  which  this  tumbled  chaos  is  honey- 
combed. 

We  were  now  beyond  the  area  of  shade ;  no 
longer  did  the  cliff  protect  us.  For  an  hour  we 
laboured  up  the  widening  gorge,  over  the 
yielding  sand, — in  the  glaring,  unmitigated 
sunshine.  It  was  with  a  grateful  sense  of  relief 


WE  PITCH  OUR  CAMP         157 

that  we  reached  Pella,  somewhat  breathless, 
but  none  the  worse  for  our  adventure. 

The  teams  were  soon  inspanned,  so  after 
thanking  Father  Simon  and  the  nuns  for  their 
kind  entertainment,  and  paying  a  farewell  visit 
to  the  student  of  Aquinas  in  his  dingy  hut,  we 
made  a  start  for  Brabies, — "  the  place  of  the 
withered  flower,"  as  the  Bushmen  named  it. 
At  Brabies  it  was  that  we  had  decided  to  pitch 
our  hunting  camp,  for  we  heard  good  reports 
as  to  the  water  in  the  vley  there.  No  one, 
so  far  as  we  knew,  had  been  there  lately,  but 
a  heavy  thunder-storm  had  been  observed  to 
pass  over  the  vicinity  of  Brabies  about  a  week 
previously.  Our  objective  was  about  thirty 
miles  away.  There  was  a  slight  improvement 
in  the  weather.  The  cool  spell  of  the  distant 
sea,  owing  to  last  night's  wind,  still  lay  upon 
the  grateful  desert. 

We  pushed  on  steadily  but  could  not  travel 
fast,  for  the  sand  was  heavy  and  the  angular 
limestone  fragments  lay  thick  upon  our  course. 
However,  we  reached  our  destination  just  as 
the  sun  was  going  down.  Brabies  had  no  rock- 
saucer;  its  water  was  held  in  a  vley,  or  shallow 
depression  with  a  hard  clay  bottom.  This 
vley  was  several  hundred  yards  in  circum- 
ference. It  lay  on  an  almost  imperceptible 


158  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

rise;  nevertheless  this  circumstance  enabled 
anyone  camping  on  its  margin  to  gain  a  view 
over  an  immense  area  of  desert.  Usually,  we 
had  been  told,  at  least  one  heavy  thunderstorm 
broke  over  Brabies  early  in  each  season,  and 
then  the  vley  held  water  for  about  three  weeks. 

With  the  exception  of  a  few  small  troops  of 
ostriches,  immensely  far  off,  no  game  was  in 
sight.  However,  a  long,  low  ridge — rising  so 
slightly  above  the  general  level  that  the  eye 
had  difficulty  in  recognising  it  as  an  elevation 
at  all — lay  to  the  northward,  some  six  miles 
away.  We  knew  that  the  tract  just  on  the  other 
side  of  that  ridge  was  one  of  the  favourite 
feeding-grounds  of  the  oryx.  And  it  was  oryx 
and  nothing  else  that  we  were  just  then  in- 
terested in.  Judging  by  the  amount  of  spoor, 
some  of  it  quite  fresh,  our  game  could  not  be 
very  far  off. 

This  more  or  less  central  area  of  Bushman- 
land, — a  tract  from  ten  to  twelve  hundred 
square  miles  in  extent — was  practically  the  last 
refuge  of  the  oryx  south  of  the  Orange  River. 
It  is  almost  absolutely  flat, — except  on  its 
northern  and  eastern  margins,  where  the  dunes 
intrude  for  an  inconsiderable  distance  over  its 
bounds.  The  tract  is  quite  arid,  but  occasion- 
ally, in  perhaps  half-a-dozen  spots,  the  under- 


PROTECTOR  OF  THE  ORYX    159 

ground  rock-saucers  hold  water  for  from  three 
to  five  weeks.  So  far  as  I  had  been  able  to 
ascertain,  Brabies  and  one  other,  but  nameless, 
vley  were  the  only  places  in  the  whole  enor- 
mous northern  section  of  the  desert  where 
water  ever  lay  on  the  surface.  Brabies,  as  has 
been  stated,  usually  contained  water  once,  at 
least,  during  each  season,  but  the  other  vley 
sometimes  remained  dry  for  years  at  a  stretch. 
As  might  be  imagined,  the  region  was  of  no 
economic  value. 

Owing  to  the  circumstance  that  a  measure 
of  informal  police  protection  had  been 
afforded  to  the  vicinity  of  Brabies  during  the 
previous  two  years,  practically  all  the  oryx  in 
the  desert  had  there  congregated.  I  estimated 
their  number  at  about  twelve  hundred.  There 
was  no  reason  why  those  animals  should  not 
have  increased  and  multiplied.  Andries  was  a 
Field  Cornet, — an  office  combining  the  func- 
tions of  a  constable  with  those  of  a  justice  of 
the  peace.  I  had  appointed  him  Warden  of 
the  Desert  Marches  and  Chief  Protector  of  the 
Oryx  and  the  Ostrich.  Between  us,  we  managed 
to  protect  these  animals  more  or  less  effec- 
tively. But — "  thou  shalt  not  muzzle  the  ox 
that  treadeth  out  the  corn." 

The  oryx  evinces  several  interesting  peculi- 


160  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

arities.  I  have  mentioned  in  a  previous  chap- 
ter the  remarkable  formation  of  its  foot, — the 
membrane  connecting  the  wide-spreading  toes, 
which  enables  it  to  gallop  scathless  over  the 
Kanya  stones  which  cripple  all  other  animals. 
Another  abnormality  is  shewn  in  the  way  the 
hair  lies.  If  one  wished  to  stroke  the  back  of 
an  oryx  one  would  have  to  do  so  from  back  to 
front,  as  the  hair  slopes  in  a  reverse  direction 
as  compared  with  all  other  antelopes.  The 
oryx  fawn  is  born  with  horns  about  four  inches 
long,  but  the  points  are  capped  with  a  plug- 
like  mass  of  horny  substance.  This  falls  off 
when  the  animal  is  about  three  weeks  old. 

An  oryx  fawn,  until  it  has  reached  the  age  of 
from  three  to  four  months,  is  a  most  extra- 
ordinary object.  Its  neck,  chest  and  flanks  are 
covered  with  long  hair,  vivid  red  in  hue.  It 
has  a  shaggy  red  mane  and  a  big,  black 
muzzle ;  its  ears  are  of  enormous  size.  The  first 
time  I  saw  these  creatures  I  almost  mistook 
them  for  lions.  Three  of  them  stood  up  sud- 
denly at  a  distance  of  about  sixty  yards  and 
gazed  at  me.  My  horse  was  terrified  to  such  an 
extent  that  he  became  unmanageable.  It  was 
only  with  difficulty  that  Andries  was  able  to 
persuade  me  as  to  the  true  nature  of  the 
animals. 


THE  DOG  WHO   KNOWS       161 

The  male  and  female  oryx  are  identical  in 
the  matter  of  marking  and  are  of  approxi- 
mately the  same  height,  but  the  male  is  the 
heavier  in  build.  The  horns  of  the  female  are 
longer  and  straighter  than  those  of  the  male, 
but  are  not  so  thick. 

Occasionally,  in  the  cool  season  of  the  year, 
one  used  dogs  in  hunting  the  oryx.  But  unless 
a  dog  had  been  specially  trained  to  the  busi- 
ness, it  was  speedily  killed.  Under  ordinary 
circumstances  a  dog  most  effectively  attacks 
an  animal  behind  or  on  the  flank,  but  the  oryx, 
without  breaking  his  stride,  can  give  a  light- 
ning-quick sweep  with  his  formidable  horns  and 
impale  anything  within  four  feet  of  his  heels 
or  on  either  side.  The  dog  that  knows  its  busi- 
ness runs  in  front  of  the  oryx,  for  the  latter 
cannot  depress  his  head  sufficiently  forward  to 
make  the  horns  effective  against  anything 
before  it  which  is  low  on  the  ground.  A 
trained  dog  can  thus  easily  bring  an  oryx  to 
bay,  and  hold  him  engaged  until  the  hunter 
comes  to  close  quarters. 

Here  may  be  noted  a  contrast  between  the 
habits  of  the  larger  desert  antelopes  and  of 
those  antelopes  which  live  in  the  forest.  In 
the  desert  it  is  the  males  which  head  the  flight, 
leaving  the  females  and  the  weaklings  to  fend 
K 


162  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

for  themselves.  But  in  the  forest  the  male 
covers  the  retreat  of  his  family  and  is  always 
the  last  to  flee.  There  is  probably  some  con- 
nexion between  the  foregoing  rule  and  the  cir- 
cumstance that  the  female  of  the  antelope  of 
the  desert, — the  oryx,  the  hartebeest  and  the 
blesbuck — is  horned  more  or  less  as  the  male 
is,  whereas  the  females  of  the  forest  dwellers, 
— the  bushbuck,  the  koodoo  and  the  impala — 
are  hornless. 

The  horses  had  been  watered,  fed  and 
picketed;  we  had  eaten  our  supper  and 
finished  our  pipes.  I  took  my  kaross  and  wan- 
dered away  for  a  few  hundred  yards  so  as  to  be 
alone  and  undisturbed  by  snoring  men  or 
snorting  horses.  The  only  possible  cause  of 
anxiety  was  in  respect  of  snakes.  We  killed  a 
large  yellow  cobra  just  at  dusk.  The  spoor  of 
the  cobra, — the  hooded  yellow  death, — could 
be  seen  among  the  tussocks  in  every  direction. 
The  previous  year  one  of  my  men  had  had  a 
horse  killed  by  a  snake  close  to  where  the 
wagon  then  stood;  the  skeleton  of  the  animal 
was  still  in  evidence. 

In  the  vicinity  of  the  Brabies  vley  the  sand 
was  rather  firmer  than  in  most  other  parts  of 
the  desert;  consequently  cities  of  the  desert 


UNUTTERABLE  PEACE        163 

mice  abounded.  Where  mice  were  plentiful, 
so  were  snakesj  they  seemed  to  live  together 
underground  on  the  best  of  terms.  In  summer 
it  was  only  at  night  that  the  snakes  emerged 
and  wandered  abroad.  However,  cobras  or  no 
cobras,  I  intended  to  camp  by  myself. 

And  then — once  more  the  unutterable  peace, 
the  sumptuous  palace  of  the  night, — the 
purple  curtains  of  infinity  excluding  all  that 
made  for  discord, — the  music  of  the  whisper- 
ing tongues  that  filled  the  void.  How  the 
limitless,  made  manifest  in  the  throbbing  uni- 
verse of  stars,  responds  to  the  infinite  which 
the  most  insignificant  human  soul  contains. 
These  are  the  transcendent  wonders  which  the 
mighty  Kant  bracketed  together. 

An  utterance  of  Shakespeare — embodying 
one  of  those  cosmic  imaginings  only  he  or 
Goethe  could  have  expressed,  came  to  my 
mind — "  the  prophetic  soul  of  the  wide  world 
dreaming  on  things  to  come."  If  there  be  a 
spirit  proper  to  our  globe — a  thinking  and  in- 
forming spirit — surely  the  desert  should  be  its 
habitation.  If  such  ever  dwelt  where  men  con- 
gregate, it  does  so  no  longer,  for  men  have 
no  longer  leisure  to  think;  they  spend  their 
strength  in  continuous  futile  labour,  the  fruits 
of  which  are  ashes  and  dust.  Leisure,  oppor- 


1 64  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

tunity  to  collate  experience  and  appraise  its 
results, — surely  that  is  necessary  to  balanced 
thought, — towards  being  able  to  see  things  in 
their  true  proportions.  But  so-called  progress 
has  killed  leisure. 

Where,  to-day,  is  the  voice  of  Truth  to  be 
heard?  Not  in  the  frantic  and  contradictory 
shoutings  of  the  forum  or  the  market  place, 
nor  in  the  groans  of  those  doomed  to  unre- 
quited and  unleisured  toil, — but  I  think  that 
an  attentive  ear  may  sometimes  hear  her  voice 
whispering  in  the  wilderness.  And  this  I 
know :  that  when  a  spent  and  wounded  soul 
steals  out  and  sinks  humbly  at  the  feet  of  Soli- 
tude, some  kind  and  bountiful  hand  holds  out 
to  it  the  cup  of  Peace, — and  often  the  pearl  of 
Wisdom  is  dissolved  in  that  cup  for  the  spirit's 
refreshment. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE        ORYX        HUNT — TERRIBLE        THIRST — PREHISTORIC 
WEAPONS. 

SOON  after  daybreak  we  saddled  up. 
That  day  our  hunting  was  to  be 
northward,  for  thither  all  the  oryx 
spoor  trended.  Andries,  Hendrick  and  I 
rode  off  together.  We  had  to  pass  the 
western  end  of  the  long,  low  ridge  noted 
on  the  previous  evening.  Hendrick,  just 
before  we  started,  declared  that  he  saw 
some  "  black  sticks "  protruding  near  the 
ridge's  eastern  extremity.  This  was  difficult  to 
credit  when  one  took  the  distance  into  con- 
sideration, yet  we  could  not  help  admitting 
that  the  Hun  had  never  yet  misled  us.  So  we 
proceeded  on  the  reasonable  assumption  that 
his  eyes  had  not  on  this  occasion  played  him 
false. 

Assuming  the  oryx  to  be  where  Hendrick 
affirmed  he  had  seen  their  horns,  we  had  to  en- 
deavour to  give  the  animals  our  wind  from 
the  proper  distance.  In  hunting  the  oryx  one 


1 66  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

has  to  follow  a  method  opposite  to  that  fol- 
lowed in  the  case  of  all  other  game.  If  one 
got  their  wind,  failure  was  a  foregone  con- 
clusion, for  the  oryx  cannot  run  down  the 
wind.  To  keep  up  the  necessary  supply  of 
oxygenated  blood  to  his  mighty  muscles  he 
must  run — his  wide  nostrils  expanded  like 
funnels — against  the  air-current.  Should  he 
attempt  to  run  down  the  wind  he  would 
smother  when  hard  pressed.  This  both  he  and 
the  hunter  know,  so  the  great  art  in  the  noble 
sport  of  oryx-hunting  lies  in  manoeuvring  so 
as  to  prevent  the  game  from  taking  the  only 
course  on  which  his  powers  will  have  full  play. 

The  day  promised  to  be  hot;  when  the 
Kalihari  wind  blows  in  summer  there  is  no 
possibility  of  cool  weather  in  the  desert.  We 
advanced  at  a  walking  pace,  for  the  strength  of 
our  horses  had  to  be  conserved  against  that 
long  pursuit  which,  in  hunting  the  oryx,  is 
almost  inevitable.  The  heat  grew  greater 
every  moment.  The  morning  was  at  seven; 
what  would  the  sunshine  be  like  at  noon? 

We  reached  the  western  limit  of  the  ridge, — 
where  the  gentle  slope  merged  itself  almost  im- 
perceptibly into  the  plain.  This  was  the  junc- 
ture at  which  to  exercise  caution;  one  false 
move  then,  and  our  day  would  have  been 


A  WIDE  DETOUR  167 

wasted.  We  dismounted  and  stole  cautiously 
to  our  right — Hendrick  and  I, — Andries  re- 
maining with  the  horses.  A  low  "  s-s-s-t-" 
from  Hendrick,  and  we  dropped  in  our  tracks 
to  the  ground.  The  keen-eyed  Hun  had  again 
discerned  the  tips  of  the  "  black  sticks  "  over 
the  rim  of  the  earth-curve.  We  crept  back  to 
Andries  and  the  horses,  held  a  council  of  war 
and  finally  decided  upon  our  strategy. 

Andries  was  heavily  built;  almost  corpulent. 
This  to  him  was  a  matter  of  great  grief.  His 
mount  was  strong,  but  no  horse  that  ever  was 
foaled  could,  with  sixteen  stone  on  its  back, 
run  down  a  herd  of  oryx. 

Hendrick  and  I,  accordingly,  were  to  do 
the  riding.  The  game  was  still  several  miles 
away,  on  our  left  front  as  we  turned  and  faced 
the  camp,  but  it  nevertheless  was  necessary 
that  we  should  make  another  wide  sweep  so  as 
to  get  further  to  windward.  So  we  rode  off 
northward,  leaving  Andries  behind.  He  de- 
cided to  remain  where  he  was,  it  being  an  even 
chance  as  to  whether  the  herd,  after  it  had 
started,  would  break  past  him  or  to  the  north- 
eastward. In  any  event  its  course  would  not 
be  more  than  45  degrees  on  either  side  of  the 
point  from  which  the  wind  was  blowing.  An- 
dries, moreover,  had  an  almost  uncanny  knack 


168  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

of  forecasting  the  movements  of  wild  animals. 

Hendrick  and  I  had  got  to  within  about 
three  miles  of  the  herd,  and  well  to  windward, 
when  it  sighted  us.  It  was  a  fairly  large  one, — 
numbering  about  eighty  head.  Until  the  oryx 
started  running  we  would  continue  to  ride  dia- 
gonally away  from  them,  edging  slightly  to 
our  right  and  proceeding  at  a  walking  pace. 
But  I  kept  my  head  turned  far  enough  over 
my  right  shoulder  to  enable  me  to  keep  one 
careful  eye  on  the  herd,  which  stood  at  gaze, 
every  head  pointing  northward  against  the  wind. 

Our  plans  had  been  carefully  laid.  When 
the  herd  started  running,  as  it  now  soon  would, 
Hendrick,  on  his  fierce  black  stallion,  was  to 
ride  due  east  at  full  gallop,  so  as  to  cut  clean 
across  its  course.  My  own  actions  would  be 
governed  by  the  behaviour  of  the  game.  I  was 
anxious,  if  possible,  to  secure  Andries  a  shot. 
At  length  the  herd  started  and  Hendrick,  tense 
with  desire,  loosened  his  reins  and  thundered 
away.  The  course  of  the  flight  was,  as  we  ex- 
pected, a  little  to  the  east  of  north.  It  is  re- 
markable how  experience  teaches  one  to  anti- 
cipate what  game  will  do  when  disturbed.  I 
edged  to  my  right  at  a  moderate  canter.  Old 
Prince  tried  to  break  into  a  gallop,  but  the 
time  for  that  was  not  yet. 


A  SUCCESSFUL  MANOEUVRE     169 

The  herd  inclined  its  course  still  more  to  the 
eastward,  but  Hendrick  had  too  much  of  a 
start  for  that  to  matter ;  he  had,  so  far,  the  hunt 
completely  in  hand.  Should  the  oryx  have 
adhered  to  the  course  they  started  on,  they 
would  soon  have  been  in  a  dilemma :  that  of 
having  to  choose  between  passing  Hendrick 
at  close  quarters  and  running  down  the  wind. 
So  the  inevitable  alteration  in  their  course  was 
now  only  a  matter  of  seconds.  Ha !  they 
swerved ;  they  were  now  heading  for  the  opening 
between  Andries,  whom,  being  behind  the  end 
of  the  ridge,  they  could  not  see,  and  myself. 
This  was  precisely  what  we  had  been  manoeuv- 
ring for. 

I  let  Prince  out  and  galloped  towards  the 
advancing  herd,  pressing  it  gently  away  from 
the  wind.  Were  I  to  have  pressed  the  oryx 
too  hard,  they  would  have  again  swerved  to 
their  right  and  rushed  for  the  opening  between 
Hendrick  and  me.  This  would  have  suited 
me,  personally,  well  enough,  but  would  have 
spoilt  Andries'  chance.  On  they  came — the 
full-grown  bulls,  about  thirty  of  them — lead- 
ing in  a  close  phalanx.  Then  came  the  cows; 
behind  these  the  fawns.  I  trended  slightly  to 
my  right  and  gave  Prince  a  looser  rein.  I  had 
the  herd  fully  in  hand  at  about  five  hundred 


i;o  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

yards;  I  was  easily  holding  their  wind  and 
could  have  closed  with  them  whenever  I  liked. 
But,  disregarding  Andries'  oft-repeated  ad- 
vice, I  yielded  to  temptation.  After  gaining 
another  hundred  yards  I  rolled  from  my  horse 
and  opened  fire.  It  seemed  impossible  to  miss 
such  a  mark,  but  my  first  wind  had  gone  and 
the  second  had  not  yet  taken  its  place.  My 
bullets  went  all  over  the  veld,  every  shot 
missed. 

As  I  remounted,  with  shame  and  sorrow  in 
my  heart,  I  heard  a  shot  from  the  other  side  of 
the  herd;  it  was  followed  by  a  thud.  Then  a 
bull  turned  out  of  the  press;  it  faltered,  stag- 
gered and  fell.  Once  more  I  let  Prince  out 
at  his  best  gallop,  keeping  his  nose  on  the  flank 
of  the  phalanx.  I  had,  through  my  foolish  im- 
patience, largely  lost  my  advantage;  now  my 
only  chance  of  a  favourable  shot  was  to  ride 
for  all  I  was  worth,  strenuously  pressing  the 
leaders  of  the  herd  away  from  the  wind. 

The  herd  was  then  about  nine  hundred 
yards  away.  All  I  could  do  was  to  continue 
the  pressure,  so  as  to  defer  the  now  inevitable 
stern  chase  for  as  long  as  possible.  I  was  just 
barely  holding  my  own,  bu!  that  was  good 
enough  for  the  current  stage.  The  oryx  did 
not  as  yet  venture  to  turn  up  wind;  they  well 


STRATEGY  171 

knew  that  an  attempt  to  do  so  would  have  en- 
abled me  to  close  with  them  by  putting  on  a 
spurt. 

Prince  knew  his  work  and  had  settled  down 
to  that  steady,  tireless  stride  I  knew  and  loved 
so  well,  and  which  he  could  easily  keep  up  for 
ten  miles  without  a  rest.  The  wind  sang  as 
we  cleft  it,  rushing  through  the  swaying  "  toa." 
The  desert  lay  before  us  as  level  as  the  sea. 
A  few  springbucks,  waifs  from  some  trekking 
herd,  stood  at  gaze  as  we  swept  by.  They 
knew  quite  well  what  my  objective  was  and 
accordingly  were  not  alarmed.  Paauws  arose 
here  and  there  on  heavy  wings;  the  flight  of 
one  startled  all  others  in  sight.  Ostriches 
scudded  away  in  various  directions.  The 
desert  was  awake;  word  of  the  presence  of 
man, — of  the  arch-enemy  on  the  war-path — 
had  been  borne  to  its  farthest  bounds. 

The  course  of  the  herd  was  a  segment  of 
the  periphery  of  a  wide  circle;  my  course  was 
also  a  curve,  but  an  elliptical  one, — for  it  con- 
tinually impinged  on  the  leaders  so  as  to  con- 
tinue pressing  them  away  from  the  wind  for 
every  possible  yard.  But  it  was  clear  that  very 
soon  the  oryx  would  be  able  to  attain  the  course 
which  was  the  object  of  their  swift  endeavour; 
this  was  rendered  inevitable  from  the  moment 


i;2  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

of  my  stupid  blunder  in  dismounting  too  soon 
and  thus  throwing  away  my  rare  advantage. 
At  length  they  had  it;  I  could  press  them  no 
longer.  Now  the  flight  is  almost  dead  against 
the  wind;  now  the  trumpet-like  nostrils  are 
opened  wide  against  the  streaming  current  of 
air.  This  seems  to  stimulate  the  fugitives,  for  the 
distance  between  us  has  perceptibly  increased. 

Prince,  unbidden,  swerved  to  the  right 
course  and  we  followed  hard  on  the  heels  of 
the  flying  game.  It  was  at  length  a  stern  chase. 
A  word  to  my  faithful  horse  and  his  stride 
quickened.  Soon  it  was  clear  that  we  were 
gaining.  Herein  was  an  illustration  of  how  the 
instinct  of  animals,  usually  so  true,  may  occa- 
sionally mislead  them.  These  creatures,  in 
the  hour  of  danger  blindly  surrendering  to  the 
gregarious  idea  ingrained  through  the  experi- 
ence of  ages,  crowded  so  hard  on  each  other 
that  they  got  half-smothered  in  their  own  dust. 
Hence  it  is  far  more  easy  to  ride  down  a  large 
herd  of  oryx  than  a  small  one.  When  it  is  a 
case  of  a  single  animal,  or  even  of  two  or  three, 
a  stern  chase  is  almost  hopeless,  no  matter  how 
swift  one's  mount. 

I  was  gaining  rapidly;  I  overhauled  the 
fawns  and  immature  animals  and  pressed 
through,  passing  some  of  them  within  a  few 


SUCCESS  AFTER  ALL          173 

yards.  One  I  had  to  turn  out  of  my  way  by 
leaning  forward  from  the  saddle  and  prodding 
it  with  the  muzzle  of  my  rifle.  Those  young 
things  followed  after  me,  bent  only  on  over- 
taking their  elders;  apparently  oblivious  of  the 
circumstance  that  I  was  their  enemy.  I  over- 
took the  crowd  of  cows;  it  opened  out  and 
scattered  on  either  hand.  I  was  now  riding  in 
a  cloud  of  dust,  the  phalanx  of  bulls  being 
only  about  a  hundred  and  fifty  yards  ahead; 
the  animals  could  be  but  dimly  discerned 
through  the  dust-cloud.  I  had  to  gain  another 
hundred  yards  without  attempting  to  dis- 
mount; not  again  would  I  yield  to  impatience. 
The  hundred  yards  were  soon  gained; 
Prince  shewed  signs  of  flagging,  so  I  had  to 
look  out  for  a  soft  place  whereon  I  could  roll 
from  the  saddle  without  hurting  myself.  My 
second  wind  had  come;  I  was  as  steady  as  a 
rock,  but  eyes,  throat  and  nostrils  were  smart- 
ing from  the  acrid,  pungent  dust.  I  dropped 
the  reins  on  Prince's  neck;  he  shortened  his 
stride  and  I  rolled  from  his  back  on  my  right- 
hand  side.  I  could  just  see  the  bulls,  but  the 
dust  was  so  thick  that  it  was  impossible  to  pick 
an  animal,  so  I  fired  into  the  brown  of  the  mov- 
ing mass.  My  bullet  thudded  hard;  that  was 
enough, — I  would  not  fire  again. 


174  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

The  herd  of  oryx  sped  on ;  I  remounted  and 
followed  at  a  slow  canter.  Yes, — there  was 
my  quarry, — a  bull  turned  out  of  the  press  and 
faltered  in  his  course.  I  rode  towards  him; 
he  still  cantered  but  his  gait  was  laboured. 
He  stood,  turned  and  faced  me. 

He  was  a  noble  brute, — a  leader  among  the 
oryx  people.  Still  as  a  statue  he  stood,  defying 
his  enemy.  His  wire-like  hair  was  erect  and 
quivering;  his  red,  trumpet-formed  nostrils 
seemed  to  exude  defiance;  his  shoulders  and 
flanks  were  heavily  banded  with  streaks  of 
foam.  In  spite  of  the  long  chase  he  did  not 
appear  to  pant. 

I  dismounted  when  within  about  sixty  yards 
and  advanced  towards  the  doomed  and  stricken 
creature.  Now  it  behoved  me  to  be  wary,  for 
had  the  bull  charged  and  my  shot  failed  to  dis- 
able him,  my  death  would  inevitably  have  re- 
sulted. So  I  took  careful  aim  at  a  spot  just 
above  where  his  neck  emerged  from  his  chest, 
and  fired.  The  bull  sank  to  the  ground  in  a 
huddled  heap. 

I  now  became  aware  for  the  first  time  that  I 
was  suffering  from  raging  thirst.  To  my  dis- 
may I  found  that  the  small  flask  of  weak  whis- 
key and  water  I  had  slung  to  the  side  of  my 
saddle  had  got  smashed  in  the  course  of  the 


AGONIES  OF  THIRST          175 

gallop.  Away — in  the  far  distance — I  saw 
Hendrick  approaching  at  a  walk. 

I  disembowelled  the  oryx  and  covered  the 
carcase  with  bushes  so  as  to  conceal  it  from 
the  vultures.  Among  the  bushes  I  burnt  a  few 
charges  of  gunpowder;  this  would  serve  to 
keep  off  the  jackals — at  all  events  for  a  few 
hours.  Then  I  mounted  and  rode  slowly  to- 
wards the  wagon.  Hendrick  altered  his  course 
and  joined  me,  en  route.  Black  Bucephalus 
looked  piebald  as  he  approached,  so  flaked 
was  he  with  dried  sweat. 

The  wagon  was  about  twelve  miles  from 
where  the  oryx  had  fallen.  It  took  us  over 
three  hours — hours  of  intense  physical  anguish 
— to  travel  those  miles.  My  mouth  was  so 
parched  that  the  saliva  had  ceased  to  exude, 
my  lips  were  cracked  and  bleeding.  For  a 
considerable  portion  of  the  time  spent  on  that 
dolorous  journey  I  was  on  the  verge  of  de- 
lirium. Hendrick  also  suffered,  but  in  a  some- 
what less  degree,  for  his  fibre  was  tougher  than 
mine.  When  about  half-way  to  the  wagon  he 
asked  my  permission  to  ride  apart,  stating  as 
his  reason  that  he  could  not  bear  the  sight  of 
my  torment-  Brabies  and  the  white  tilt  of  the 
wagon  seemed  to  recede  before  us.  I  then 
realised  clearly  how  people  might  die  on  the 


176  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

threshold  of  relief.  For  untold  gold  I  would 
not  undergo  another  such  experience. 

But  the  journey  came  to  an  end  at  length,  and 
the  long  drink  which  followed  was  unspeak- 
ably delicious.  Soon  the  wagon  was  emptied 
of  its  contents  and,  with  a  team  of  eight  fresh 
horses,  despatched  to  fetch  in  the  game.  It 
was  nightfall  when  the  wagon  returned  with 
its  heavy  load, — the  carcases  of  two  large  oryx 
bulls. 

The  morrow  we  spent  at  Brabies  for  the  pur- 
pose of  giving  the  horses  a  rest.  We  occupied 
ourselves  in  the  prosaic  process  of  cutting  up 
and  salting  the  oryx  meat.  On  the  following 
day  we  would  start  for  home.  The  water  of 
the  vley  was  rapidly  drying  up  under  the  fierce 
heat;  in  another  week  there  would  not  be  a 
drop  left. 

There  were  several  features  of  interest  con- 
nected with  the  vley.  The  water  had  shrunk 
to  a  series  of  small  puddles.  Swimming  about 
in  every  one  of  these  were  large  numbers  of 
tiny  organisms,  each  with  a  single,  immense 
eye.  These  creatures  belonged  to  a  species  of 
"  Apus," — a  genus  of  one  of  the  crustacean 
sub-families.  On  a  trip  undertaken  during  the 
previous  year  I  had  found  an  Apus  of  another 
species  in  a  vley  less  than  thirty  miles  from 


AN  AMAZING  EXISTENCE       177 

Brabies, — a  vley  which  probably  does  not  con- 
tain water  more  than  once  in  five  years.  This 
development  of  separate  species  in  localities 
so  close  to  each  other,  suggested  that  local 
conditions  had  not  materially  changed  for  a 
very  long  period.  No  vley  was  found  to  con- 
tain more  than  a  single  variety.  These  quaint 
creatures  swim  through  their  little  hour  of  fully 
developed  life  and,  when  the  drying  up  of  the 
water  kills  them,  the  eggs  they  contain  are 
freed.  Then  these  are  blown  hither  and  thither 
among  the  dust  of  the  desert  until  another  ad- 
ventitious shower  fills  the  vley  in  which  they 
were  generated,  and  some  chance  wind-gust 
carries  a  few  of  them  into  the  water.  The  in- 
definite preservation  of  the  life-germ  on  the 
occasionally  almost  red-hot  surface  of  the 
desert  is  little  short  of  miraculous. 

Yes, — the  Brabies  vley  must  have  existed 
under  approximately  similar  conditions  from 
an  immensely  remote  antiquity.  It  is  probable 
that  in  comparatively  recent  times  rain  was 
more  plentiful  in  Bushmanland  (as  there  is 
reason  to  believe  it  was  generally  throughout 
South  Africa),  than  it  now  is.  For  there  were 
evidences  that  Brabies  was  once  a  centre  of 
population.  Pottery,  obviously  of  Bushman 
manufacture,  abounded.  If  one  broke  a  frag- 

L 


i;8  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

ment,  the  charred  fibres  of  the  woven  grass- 
blades  on  which  the  clay  design  had  been 
formed,  could  be  clearly  seen.  In  the  low, 
stone  ledges  surrounding  the  vley  were  to  be 
seen  grooves  evidently  caused  by  the  sharpen- 
ing of  weapons.  Some  of  these  grooves  were 
very  deep,  and  as  the  Bushmen's  arrow-heads 
were  made  of  bone,  the  scores  must  have  been 
the  result  of  sharpening  by  many  generations. 
A  few  of  them  looked  as  fresh  as  if  they  had 
been  used  the  previous  day. 

A  careful  search  discovered  stone  imple- 
ments of  various  types, — palaeolithic  as  well  as 
neolithic.  These  suggested  a  receding  suc- 
cession of  prehistoric  peoples  to  days  unthink- 
ably  remote.  Some  of  the  weapons  were  very 
peculiar, — they  were  either  spear-heads  or 
arrow-heads.  But  they  seemed  too  small  for 
the  former  and  too  large  for  the  latter.  If  they 
were  spear-heads  they  must  have  been  used  by 
pygmies ;  if  arrow-heads  by  giants. 

As  there  were  apparently  no  springbucks 
worth  the  hunting  on  that  side  of  the  desert, 
we  decided  to  return  home  at  once.  We  thus 
had  no  opportunity  of  testing  the  qualities 
of  the  fearsome  hunting-chariot-contraption 
constructed  by  Andries.  I  was  not  altogether 
sorry;  my  bones  ached  in  anticipation  of  our 


PREHISTORIC  REMAINS       179 

probable  experiences  in  it, — behind  the  half- 
broken  team. 

Each  morning  when  the  sun  first  grew  hot, 
the  vley  was  invaded  by  countless  myriads  of 
desert  grouse.  Of  these  we  shot  some  hun- 
dreds, which  we  salted  down  for  home  con- 
sumption. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  RICHTERSVELD — KUBOOS — THE  VICAR  OF  WAKEFIELD 
REDIVIVUS  —  GOLD-SEEKING  —  THE  RAAD  —  MORBID 
SENSIBILITY — START  FOR  EL  DORADO. 

JUST  before  the  Orange  River,  wearied 
from  its  long  travail,  slides  into  the 
Atlantic,  it  bends  in  a  sickle-shaped 
curve.  Its  course  for  the  previous  three  hun- 
dred miles  has  been  through  the  tremendous 
and  almost  inaccessible  gorge  into  whose 
depths  it  hurled  itself  at  the  Augrabies  Falls. 
The  incidence  of  those  aggregates  of  men 
which  pass,  like  the  individual,  through  the 
successive  stages  of  youth,  maturity  and  decay, 
and  which  we  are  accustomed  to  term  civilisa- 
tions, is  as  much  a  question  of  geology  as  of 
geography.  Accadia  and  Egypt  grew  great 
and  stained  many  pages  of  the  record  we  term 
history  by  virtue  of  the  circumstance  that  the 
Euphrates  and  the  Nile,  after  leaving  the 
mountains  that  gave  them  birth,  flowed  respec- 
tively through  low,  level  countries  which  they 
enriched  with  precious  alluvium.  The  Orange 


THE  RICHTERSVELD          181 

River  was,  however,  sped  oceanwards  over  a 
vast  plateau  of  hard-grained  rock,  several 
thousand  feet  above  sea-level.  Into  this  the 
stream  has  been  slowly  biting,  and  the  allu- 
vium— that  meat  upon  which  material  civilisa- 
tion is  nourished,  was  hurled  through  the  chan- 
nel and  flung  wastefully  into  the  maw  of  the 
all-consuming  waves.  Under  different  phy- 
siographical  circumstances  another  Alexandria 
might  have  arisen  where  to-day  the  flamingo 
nests  among  the  misty  dunes  at  the  Orange 
River's  mouth,  "  and  another  Sphinx,  of  Hot- 
tentot or  Bantu  physiognomy,  might  have 
stood,  gazing  through  forgotten  centuries, 
across  the  waste  of  Bushmanland."* 

The  tract  lying  within  the  sickle-bend  is 
called  the  Richtersveld.  Little  is  known  of 
this  tract  or  of  its  inhabitants.  Half  a  century 
ago  prospecting  for  copper  ore  was  carried  on 
in  the  vicinity.  Indications  of  the  metal 
abounded,  but  no  payable  deposit  was  dis- 
covered. 

I  decided  to  organise  an  expedition  to  the 
Richtersveld.  There  were  several  reasons  for 
doing  this.  One  was  a  complaint  which  had 
been  made  to  the  Attorney  General  of  the 
Cape  Colony  respecting  the  alleged  flogging 

*  Between  Sun  and  Sand. 


182  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

of  a  man  under  orders  of  the  missionary  at 
Kuboos,  which  is  still  haunted  by  the  ghost  of 
an  institution  established  by  the  London  Mis- 
sionary Society  in  years  long  gone  by.  An- 
other was  a  reported  discovery  of  gold.  This, 
as  a  matter  of  fact  was  my  ostensible  excuse 
for  starting  at  the  time  I  did.  Third  and  last 
was  my  own  keen  desire  to  explore  a  little- 
known  tract  and  make  the  acquaintance  of  its 
human  and  other  inhabitants. 

The  Richtersveld,  according  to  report,  was 
extremely  mountainous  and  was  said  to  con- 
tain only  some  two  hundred  people  of  Kor- 
anna-Bushman  and  Hottentot  descent.  So 
remote  and  isolated  was  this  region  that  its 
dwellers  were  tacitly  permitted  to  govern 
themselves.  They  had  a  "  raad  "  or  council 
of  elders  which,  under  presidency  of  the  mis- 
sionary, settled  all  disputes  and  generally  ad- 
ministered justice, — informal,  but  none  the 
less  just  on  that  account.  The  language  spo- 
ken by  the  Richtersvelders  is  an  almost  extinct 
Hottentot  dialect,  full  of  clicks,  gutterals  and 
phonetic  excursions  impossible  to  the  average 
European  tongue.  Only  a  few  of  the  people 
had  even  the  merest  smattering  of  Dutch. 

That  excursion  involved  more  difficulties 
than  any  other  I  had  undertaken.  There  was, 


A  TRACKLESS  DESERT        183 

it  is  true,  not  more  than  a  bare  hundred  miles 
of  desert  to  cross,  but  the  only  definite  infor- 
mation we  had  been  able  to  gain  as  to  the  route 
was  to  the  effect  that  it  led  through  a  tract 
practically  waterless  and  extremely  difficult  to 
traverse.  Moreover,  it  was  reported  to  be  ab- 
solutely uninhabited.  One  thing  was  quite 
clear, — we  should  have  to  travel  with  oxen; 
horses  would  have  been  useless  under  the  con- 
ditions as  described. 

Andries  arrived  bringing — not  the  comfort- 
able, tilted,  spring-wagon, — but  the  strong, 
heavy,  tentless  "  buck  "  wagon,  with  a  team  of 
sixteen  picked  oxen.  He  seemed  uneasy  as 
to  our  prospects,  for  the  coast  desert  had  a  bad 
reputation  and  we  were  about  to  plunge  into 
a  wilderness  with  the  conditions  of  which  he 
was  unfamiliar.  The  map  was  produced,  but 
Andries  rather  despises  maps.  This  one 
shewed  little  beyond  "  gaps  "  and  "  unhabit- 
able downs."  But  it  indicated,  roughly,  our 
obvious  route.  We  would  travel  alongside  the 
copper-trolley  line  as  far  as  Anenous,  which 
lay  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain  range  and  thus 
on  the  inner  margin  of  the  coast  desert, — which 
is  little,  if  at  all,  above  the  level  of  the  sea. 
From  Anenous  we  had  to  trend  to  the  north- 
west, past  Tarabies,  Lekkersing  and  the  north- 


1 84  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

ern  trigonometrical  beacon.  Thence  via  Hell 
Gate  to  Kuboos,  where  the  wagon  would  have 
to  remain.  Any  further  journeyings  would 
apparently  have  to  be  undertaken  on  foot. 
Possibly,  however,  we  might  be  able  to  obtain 
pack  oxen. 

Judging  by  the  map,  the  course  looked 
obvious  and  easy,  but  we  knew  that  the  surface 
of  the  coast  desert  was  composed  of  deep,  soft 
sand,  into  which  the  wheels  of  the  heavy  wagon 
would  sink  deeply,  and  that  through  the  sandy 
tract  the  northern  range  of  mountains  sent  out 
spines  or  dykes  of  rock,  many  miles  in  length. 
These,  we  were  told,  often  took  the  form  of 
abrupt  ridges  extremely  difficult  to  negotiate 
with  any  vehicle,  no  matter  how  strongly  built. 

The  officials  of  the  Cape  Copper  Company 
at  Anenous  (which  was  the  jumping-off  place 
for  our  hundred-mile  sand-swim)  knew  nothing 
of  the  country  two  miles  on  either  side  of  the 
trolley-line.  All  they  were  definite  about  was 
that  no  one  had  ever  been  known  to  arrive  at 
Anenous  from  the  northward  or  northwestward. 

Such  Hottentots  as  we  were  able  to  consult 
all  declared  that  it  was  only  under  very  ex- 
ceptional circumstances  that  water  was  to  be 
found  between  the  trolley-line  and  the  Orange 
River. 


NEW  CONDITIONS  185 

Andries'  feelings  must  have  resembled  those 
of  a  seaman  ordered  to  navigate  his  ship 
through  an  uncharted  archipelago.  Owing  to 
our  absolute  lack  of  local  knowledge  we  should 
be  constrained  to  do  all  our  travelling  by  day, 
and  this  meant  severe  suffering  for  the  cattle. 
In  the  old  days  of  prospecting  for  copper  ore, 
all  communication  with  the  Richtersveld  was 
effected  by  a  route  along  the  actual  sea-shore 
from  Port  Nolloth  to  the  Orange  River's 
mouth  and  thence  inland  along  the  river  bank 
to  the  sickle-bend. 

We  started  from  Anenous  very  early  in  the 
morning.  On  the  previous  day  we  had  kept 
the  oxen  without  water,  so  that  almost  to  the 
moment  of  commencing  the  journey  they  might 
be  very  thirsty,  and  accordingly  drink  their  fill. 
We  at  once  plunged  into  the  waste  of  sand; 
this  proved  to  be  so  heavy  that  we  were  unable 
to  travel  at  a  higher  rate  than  two  miles  an 
hour.  The  country  was  quite  different  from 
the  Bushmanland  plains ;  there  was  no  "  toa," 
but  succulent  plants  of  great  variety  were 
plentiful.  One  Mesembryanthemum  had  the 
dimensions  of  a  large  cabbage.  In  spite  of  its 
succulence  the  oxen  would  not  eat  of  this  vege- 
tation. 

The  climate,  also,  was  different  from  that  of 


1 86  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

the  Bushmanland  plains;  the  heat  was  not  so 
great,  but  what  there  was  of  it  proved  exhaust- 
ing. A  haze  brooded  over  the  earth;  through 
it  the  north-western  mountain  range  loomed 
gigantic  and  mysterious.  There  were  no 
roads, — unless  a  wide-meshed  network  of  half- 
obliterated  tracks — probably  old  game-paths 
— could  be  described  as  such.  One  strange 
peculiarity  of  the  coastal  desert  is  the  extra- 
ordinary persistence  of  spoor  and  other  mark- 
ings on  the  surface  of  the  ground.  Near  Wai- 
fish  Bay  the  clear  tracks  of  elephants  may  still 
be  seen, — and  there  has  not  been  an  elephant 
in  the  vicinity  for  upwards  of  half  a  century. 

After  desperate  efforts  we  reached  Kuboos 
on  the  afternoon  of  the  fourth  day.  I  never 
thought  it  possible  that  a  wagon  could  travel 
where  ours  did.  We  ploughed  through  cala- 
mitous expanses  of  sand,  we  floundered 
through  dusty  dongas.  We  bumped  and  clat- 
tered over  high,  steep-sided  ramparts  of  rock. 
But  the  skill  of  Andries  as  a  driver,  the  en- 
durence  of  the  oxen  and  the  strength  of  the 
wagon  brought  us  safely  through. 

The  quaint  little  collection  of  ramshackle 
buildings  forming  the  missing  station,  was 
perched  on  a  ledge  just  below  where  the  more 
or  less  gradual  descent  of  the  T'Oums  Moun- 


A  COURTLY  HOST  187 

tain  falls  steeply  into  the  gorge,  at  the  bottom 
of  which  the  dry  bed  of  the  Anys  River  lies. 
In  the  centre  stood,  skeleton-like,  the  inevit- 
able unfinished  church,  its  narrow  gables  up- 
lifted like  clamorous  hands  to  heaven  in  an 
apparently  vain  appeal  for  funds. 

The  groaning,  bumping  wagon  came  to  a 
halt  before  a  low  cottage  built  of  sun-dried 
bricks  and  thatched  with  reeds.  From  it 
emerged  a  figure  startling  in  its  incongruity. 
This  was  a  tall,  elderly,  erect  man  dressed  in 
black  broad-cloth,  with  a  bell-topper  and  a 
very  voluminous  white  choker.  He  was  col- 
oured; that  was  quite  evident,  but  the  stately 
dignity  of  his  stride  as  he  advanced,  and  the 
courtly  grace  of  his  demeanour  when  he 
greeted  us,  could  not  have  been  improved 
upon  by  a  Chesterfield.  Self-confidence  and 
a  complete  ease  of  manner  were  apparent  in 
every  word,  in  every  graceful  gesture.  He 
spoke  in  High  Dutch,  before  which  my  homely 
"  taal  "  faltered,  abashed.  I  should  say  his 
age  was  nearer  seventy  than  sixty.  This  was 
the  Reverend  Mr.  Hein,  Resident  Missionary 
of  Kuboos  and  Dictator  of  the  Richtersveld. 

Feeling  somewhat  subdued,  we  followed  Mr. 
Hein  to  his  dwelling,  where  he  ushered  us 
through  the  lowly  portal.  The  room  we  en- 


1 88  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

tered  was  small  and  poorly  furnished,  but 
scrupulously  clean.  The  thong-bottomed  sofa 
and  chairs  were  evidently  home-made;  al- 
though rough  in  point  of  workmanship  they 
were  strong  and  comfortable.  The  walls  were 
garnished  with  illuminated  Bible  texts  and 
portraits  of  the  Royal  Family.  The  floor  was 
of  clay;  the  thatch  of  the  roof  could  be  seen 
through  a  gridiron  of  rafters. 

Mr.  Hein  took  the  head  of  the  table  and 
played  the  host  to  perfection.  We  had  evi- 
dently been  expected, — but  how  information 
as  to  our  projected  visit  could  have  reached 
Kuboos,  was  more  than  I  could  fathom.  How- 
ever, we  sat  at  the  hospitable  board  and  re- 
galed ourselves  with  excellent  coffee,  rye  bread 
and  honey.  The  members  of  the  family, — two 
fairly  young  men  and  two  middle-aged  dam- 
sels,— joined  us.  Mrs.  Hein  was,  alas,  no 
more.  She  had  died  under  a  weight  of  years, 
so  we  were  informed,  a  few  months  previously. 
The  sons  and  daughters  were  darker  in  hue 
than  their  father.  They  were  obviously  ill  at 
ease  before  us,  strangers. 

The  host  kept  the  conversational  ball  roll- 
ing without  an  effort.  Andries  was  patheti- 
cally puzzled;  the  situation  had  got  beyond 
him.  He  was  as  prejudiced  on  the  Colour 


ANDRIES'  PERPLEXITY         189 

Question  as  are  most  colonists;  in  the  abstract 
he  hated  the  idea  of  sitting  at  table  with  col- 
oured people.  But  on  this  occasion  he  felt 
himself  to  be  completely  outclassed  in  the  items 
of  manners  and  culture;  consequently  he  be- 
came acutely  embarrassed.  However,  he  ap- 
preciated the  coffee  (he  told  me  afterwards 
that  his  own  wife,  who  had  a  wide  reputation 
as  a  coffee-maker,  could  not  have  made  it  bet- 
ter) and  the  bread  and  honey  were  delicious. 

Of  whom  was  it  that  Mr.  Hein  reminded  me  ? 
His  personality  set  some  familiar  chord  vibrat- 
ing. Was  it — yes,  it  was — Parson  Primrose; 
it  was  he  and  none  other.  I  tried  to  extend 
the  parallel.  Either  of  the  sons  might,  at  a 
pitch,  have  passed  for  Moses.  George  ?  Well, 
— hardly.  Olivia  and  Sophia? — Oh,  well — 
hm — that  was  another  matter.  But  at  all 
events  there  was  the  dear  old  Vicar,  reincar- 
nated under  a  yellow  skin,  in  that  citadel  of 
loneliness  that  had  a  hundred-mile  fosse  of 
desert  sand  and  a  rampart  of  all-but-impassible 
mountains, — that  most  remote  corner  of  the 
habitable  world.  Chamisso  was  right : — 
"  Alle  menschen  sind  einander  gleich." 

Next  morning  I  met  the  "  Raad,"  and  we 
discussed  the  matter  of  the  flogging.  That 
Raad  was  a  quaint  assemblage ;  surely  the  most 


190  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

peculiar  parliament  on  earth.  It  was  composed 
of  elderly  men,  all  of  a  more  or  less  monkey- 
like  physiognomy.  Mr.  Hein  took  the  chair 
and  filled  it  with  the  utmost  dignity.  The 
members  were  restrained  in  manner,  temperate 
in  discussion  and  logical  in  all  they  said. 
Their  delivery  was  pleasing,  the  rules  of  de- 
bate were  strictly  observed.  Several  of  the 
speeches  were  made  in  Dutch;  those  given  in 
the  Hottentot  tongue  were  interpreted  into 
Dutch  for  my  benefit. 

The  individual  who  had  received  the  flog- 
ging was  present.  He  was  a  young  married 
man  with  a  weak  chin,  a  shifty  eye  and  a  vol- 
uble tongue.  His  face  possessed  a  certain 
measure  of  meretricious  good-looks]  evidently 
he  was  a  lady-killer ;  one  of  the  cheaper  varie- 
ties of  that  species.  He,  an  officer  of  the 
church,  had  committed  an  offence  against  the 
moral  law.  The  partner  in  his  guilt  was  pre- 
sent, looking  sufficiently  woe-begone.  She  did 
not  possess  the  fatal  gift  of  beauty, — at  all 
events  according  to  Caucasian  standards.  The 
injured  spouse,  attired  in  a  goat-skin  robe, 
was  present  and  wept  softly  at  intervals 
throughout  the  proceedings.  She  was  dis- 
tinctly less  uncomely  than  the  erring  sister. 

The  Raad  had  dealt  with  the  case  and  sen- 


THE  RAAD  191 

tenced  the  culprit,  who  had  admitted  his  guilt, 
to  receive  three  dozen  with  a  "  strop,"  which 
were  immediately  and  energetically  inflicted. 
The  punishment,  although  illegal,  had  been 
richly  deserved.  I  considered  that  the  Raad 
had  acted  with  propriety, — but  it  was  neces- 
sary to  be  guarded  in  what  I  said.  If  the  prin- 
ciple involved  had  been  given  formal  official 
sanction,  it  might  have  been  logically  applied 
to  more  serious  cases, — those,  for  instance,  in 
which  capital  punishment  would  have  been 
due.  If,  at  some  future  time,  the  Vicar  under 
my  implied  authority  had  erected  a  gallows 
and  engaged  the  services  of  a  Lord  High  Exe- 
cutioner, it  would  have  been  awkward,  to  say 
the  least  of  it. 

Accordingly  I  temporised.  Lothario  of  the 
shifty  eye  was  informed  that  his  case  would 
be  duly  considered  at  head-quarters.  So  it 
would, — by  the  moths  inhabiting  the  pigeon- 
holes of  the  Record  Office  in  Cape  Town. 
Nevertheless  I  should  have  to  deal  cunningly 
with  this  episode  so  as  to  avoid  raising  a  hum- 
anitarian howl.  However,  I  meant,  so  far  as  I 
could  to  support  the  authority  of  the  Raad. 
The  result  of  discrediting  that  would  have 
been  to  loosen  the  bonds  of  the  moral  law, — to 
hand  the  Richtersveld  over  to  be  exploited  by 


i92  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

the  violent  and  lawless.  This  Raad  in- 
terested me  extremely;  it  was  so  wise  and  so 
conscientious.  The  Colonial  Parliament 
might  really  have  learnt  quite  a  lot  of  useful 
things  from  it. 

We  are  a  curious  people.  The  solicitude 
we  are  apt  to  evince  for  the  posterior  of  a 
blackguard  is  really  marvellous — considering 
how  little  we  have  for  the  victims  of  an  indus- 
trial system  under  which  hundreds  of  thousands 
of  men,  women  and  children  are  leading  lives  of 
the  most  degrading  slavery.  We  see,  with  com- 
placency, whole  generations  growing  stunted 
and  vacant-eyed  under  stress  of  their  bitter 
lot;  we  know — or  should  know,  for  we  have 
been  told  it  often  enough — that  one  of 
the  pillars  in  the  edifice  of  our  commercial 
prosperity  is  the  sweated  woman  in  the  garret, 
— old,  haggard  and  hopeless  at  thirty.  She 
stitches  or  pastes  for  fourteen  hours  a  day  in 
the  blind,  numbing  effort  to  keep  her  blighted 
soul  in  her  stunted  body,  and  we  complacently 
draw  the  dividends  her  long-drawn  torture 
helps  to  swell.  But  we  forget  it  is  that  wo- 
man's grandchildren  who  may  have  to  defend 
ours  from  the  Huns. 

Yes, — a  fatal  habit  of  acquiescing  in  de- 
moralising conditions  permits  us  to  look  on  at, 


MORBID  SENSIBILITY         193 

without  attempting  to  prevent,  the  slow,  re- 
lentless murder  of  a  race.  But  the  black- 
guard's back — that  is  something  sacred;  the 
mere  idea  of  its  being  defiled  by  the  richly  de- 
served lash  fills  us  with  horror.  The  divine 
force  of  indignation  which  is  in  the  heart  of 
every  man, — a  holy  thing  when  used  for  the 
right  purpose — is  thus  wasted,  dissipated — 
fired  off  at  a  straw  dummy  held  aloft,  as  it  were, 
by  Commercialism  for  the  purpose  of  drawing 
our  attention  from  its  own  foul  works. 

And  if  we  came  to  honestly  examine  our  own 
feelings  on  the  subject  we  should  find  that  it 
was  not  so  much  the  blackguard  who  was  in 
question  as  our  own  morbid  sensibility.  We — 
that  is  the  ones  who  live  on  the  labour  of 
others, — the  small  minority  who,  feasting  on 
the  deck  of  the  ship  of  western  civilisation 
which  is  being  steered  straight  for  the  abyss — 
have  sunk  into  what  Schiller  called  "  der 
weichlichen  Schoss  der  Verfeinerung ";  our 
hyperaesthesia  has  grown  so  morbid  that  every 
stripe  we  see  administered  raises  a  weal  on 
ourselves.  This  is  a  condition  perilously  near 
that  in  which  the  contemplation  of  suffering 
becomes  the  sole  channel  of  pleasure,  for  mor- 
bid sensibility  and  cruelty  have  usually  hob- 
nobbed at  the  same  inn.  It  is  the  healthy  man 

M 


194  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

who  does  not  shrink  from  either  enduring  or 
inflicting  necessary  pain. 

The  Raad  was  dissolved — dismissed  with 
my  blessing  which,  however,  I  felt  constrained 
to  express  in  more  or  less  guarded  terms.  I 
regarded  that  body  with  deep  and  sincere  ad- 
miration. It  might  be  of  incalculable  benefit 
to  the  British  Empire  if  the  speakers  of  the 
respective  parliaments  of  the  self-governing 
Colonies,  led  by  the  speaker  of  the  House  of 
Commons,  were  to  visit  the  Richtersveld  and 
sit  on  that  arid  hill-side  listening  to  the  Raad's 
deliberations.  I  should  be  prepared  person- 
ally to  conduct  the  tour. 

With  the  Vicar's  kind  assistance  I  proceeded 
with  the  necessary  preparations  for  my  gold- 
seeking  adventure.  He  lent  me  some  carpen- 
ter's tools,  and  I  soon  altered  a  small  gin-case 
I  had  brought  into  a  very  fair  imitation  of  a 
gold-digger's  cradle.  The  next  step  was  to  hire 
two  pack-oxen  and  secure  the  services  of  a 
few  labourers.  On  the  following  morning  we 
would  start  for  the  supposed  El  Dorado.  In 
the  meantime  I  again  called  on  my  interesting 
friend  the  Vicar,  drank  some  more  of  his  excel- 
lent coffee,  and,  after  contributing  according  to 
my  means  towards  the  building  fund  of  the  un- 
finished church,  bade  my  host  a  cordial  farewell. 


A  MOTLEY  CARAVAN          195 

It  was  a  quaint  caravan  which  next  morning 
scarped  the  north-eastern  shoulder  of  the 
T'Oums  Mountain,  in  search  of  El  Dorado. 
The  guide — a  little,  wizened  creature,  cer- 
tainly more  than  half  Bushman — and  I,  led 
the  procession.  Next  came  the  pack-oxen, 
conducted  by  their  respective  owners,  but 
generally  under  Hendrick's  charge.  The 
loads  were  miscellaneous  in  character,  but  not 
heavy.  They  comprised  my  bedding,  provi- 
sions, delving  tools  and  receptacles  for  such 
reptiles,  insects  and  plants  as  we  might  find 
it  worth  while  to  collect.  From  the  top  of  one 
load  the  handle  of  the  cradle  pointed  towards 
heaven — or  rather  it  would  have  had  it  not 
swayed  so  much  from  the  gait  of  the  ox.  I 
wished  for  a  small  flag  to  attach  to  it.  Next 
came  a  mixed  crowd,  about  twenty  in  number. 
These  were  mere  camp  followers,  but  they  in- 
sisted on  accompanying  me.  They  included 
men,  women  and  children.  Among  the  latter 
were  two  ape-like  babies,  slung  on  their 
mothers'  backs.  Andries,  for  the  time,  had 
remained  behind  with  the  wagon. 

The  track  was  unexpectedly  good;  much 
better  in  fact  than  the  one  over  which  we  had 
travelled  before  reaching  Kuboos.  To  the 
left,  in  the  direction  of  the  Orange  River,  the 


196  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

scenery  was  comparatively  tame, — that  is  to 
say  it  looked  as  though  one  might  pass  over 
the  country  without  inevitably  breaking  one's 
neck.  But  to  the  right  lay  chaos,  confused  and 
titanic.  The  strata  were  completely  inverted 
— in  some  instances  almost  turned  upside 
down.  But  the  general  suggestion  was  as 
though  several  miles  of  the  earth's  surface- 
crust  had  been  placed  on  end.  The  soft  layers 
had  disappeared;  the  hard  remained  standing. 
Alternate  deep  chasms  and  jutting,  moun- 
tainous buttresses  of  rock  were  the  conse- 
quence. 

That  sickle-bend  must  have  been  the  result 
of  a  tremendous  cosmic  upheaval — an  earth- 
throe  which  flung  aside  like  a  wisp  the  from 
thirty  to  forty  miles  of  double  mountains  bound- 
ing the  then-steep  river  gorge.  A  good  deal  of 
the  former  surface  of  the  bend  had  disap- 
peared. Then  the  river,  no  longer  a  captive  in 
adamant  bonds  (as  it  still  is  farther  inland) 
doubtless  took  advantage  of  the  unstable  con- 
ditions brought  about  by  the  cataclysm,  laid 
hands  on  the  shattered  earth-ribs  and  hurled 
them,  piecemeal,  from  its  path.  So  that  there, 
although  the  mountains  were  even  loftier  than 
those  farther  to  the  eastward,  they  did  not  press 
upon  the  river  as  though  trying  to  strangle  it. 


EL  DORADO  197 

So  far  as  I  could  make  out  El  Dorado  was 
about  twenty  miles  from  Kuboos.  As  we  pro- 
ceeded the  track  improved.  The  guide  now 
calmly  informed  me  that  we  had  passed  the 
worst  of  it.  Therefore  all  the  trouble  and  ex- 
pense of  hiring  the  pack-oxen  and  their  owners 
was  unnecessary.  Here  evaporated  another 
illusion;  these  people  had  developed  business 
instincts;  the  serpent  of  guile  had  found  its 
way  even  to  the  Richtersveld  paradise.  I 
scribbled  a  note  asking  Andries  to  follow  on 
our  spoor  with  the  wagon.  This  note  I  sent 
back  by  one  of  the  camp  followers. 

It  was  fairly  late  in  the  afternoon  when  we 
reached  our  destination.  The  guide  pointed 
out  to  me  the  exact  spot  where  the  nugget  was 
alleged  to  have  been  picked  up.  It  was  on 
the  side  of  a  little  gully  which  scarred  the  ter- 
raced bank  of  the  dry  T'Cuidabees  River. 
The  bed-rock  was  of  soft  shale ;  it  almost  pro- 
truded from  the  surface,  so  sparse  was  the 
covering  soil.  There  was  no  such  thing  as 
"  wash "  in  the  ordinary  sense,  but  merely 
earth  to  the  depth  of  a  few  inches,  with  which 
a  good  many  angular  quartz  pebbles  were 
mixed.  I  had  once  found  gold,  in  an  almost 
exactly  similar  formation,  at  a  spot  in  the 
north-eastern  Transvaal. 


198  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

But  how  to  test  the  ground;  that  was  the 
question.  My  principal  object  in  sending  for 
the  wagon  was  the  conveyance  of  a  few  loads 
of  gravel  to  the  nearest  water, — wherever  that 
might  be.  In  the  meantime  I  set  a  party  of  my 
followers  to  work  loosening  the  soil  and  pick- 
ing out  the  stones.  By  the  time  darkness  set 
in  we  had  as  much  "  wash  "  ready  as  we  would 
be  able  to  deal  with. 

The  Trek-Boers  used  to  say  that  rain  always 
followed  me  to  Bushmanland.  It  had  apparently 
followed  me  to  the  Richtersveld,  for  as  we  sat  at 
the  camp  fire  a  menacing;  black  cloud  climbed  in- 
to and  filled  the  northern  sky  over  the  mountains 
of  Great  Namaqualand ;  every  few  seconds  it  was 
illuminated  by  fantastic  lightning  explosions. 
As  the  cloud  drew  nearer  the  thunder  began  to 
speak.  Soon  a  black  fog  rolled  down  on  us  and 
a  veritable  thunder-storm  set  in.  For  upwards  of 
an  hour  the  rain  fell  heavily.  We  got  wet  through, 
but  I  was  much  consoled  in  the  discomfort  by 
information  from  the  Hottentots  to  the  effect 
that  there  was  a  deep  hole  some  few  hundred 
yards  down  the  river-course,  which  held  water 
for  several  days  after  the  rare  occasions  upon 
which  rain  fell.  Soon  the  storm  had  passed 
away,  so  we  built  up  a  huge  fire  and  got  our 
clothes  more  or  less  dried.  Then  to  sleep. 


PROSPECTING  199 

In  the  morning  the  cradle  was  conveyed 
down  the  valley  to  where  the  water  was  sup- 
posed to  be.  Sure  enough,  the  hole  was  as 
described;  we  found  it  full  to  the  brim  of 
muddy  water.  Although  only  a  few  feet  in 
width  it  was  deep.  Probably  it  held  four  hun- 
dred gallons.  Work  was  started  at  once, — all 
my  followers,  male  as  well  as  female,  carrying 
down  the  loosened  gravel  in  their  skin  gar- 
ments which,  to  my  embarrassment,  they  dis- 
carded (as  clothing)  for  the  occasion.  The 
cradle  stood  at  the  side  of  the  pool,  so  that  the 
water,  after  it  had  passed  through  the  sieve 
and  over  the  trays,  could  run  back.  One  of  the 
men  lifted  the  water  in  a  bucket  and  poured 
it  slowly  into  the  top  of  the  cradle,  while  I 
rocked.  After  running  through  the  equivalent 
of  a  few  barrow-loads  I  removed  the  top  tray 
and  examined  what  lay  behind  the  lip.  Yes, 
veritably — there  were  a  few  tiny  specks  of  gold. 

This  was  what  gold  diggers  call  "  a  pay 
prospect,"  for  the  gold  was  rough  and  not 
water-worn.  It  was  quite  evident  that  this 
gold  had  never  been  under  the  influence  of 
water  at  all,  but  had  lain  in  situ  where  the 
decomposing  matrix  had  deposited  it.  I  kept 
the  cradle  going  until  the  water  in  the  pool  had 
the  consistency  of  pea-soup;  then  I  perforce 


200  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

stopped.  The  result  was  a  nice  little  "  pro- 
spect "  of  some  seven  or  eight  pennyweights. 
This  was  distinctly  a  payable  proposition — 
or  rather  it  would  have  been  had  permanent 
water  existed  in  the  vicinity. 

Andries  arrived  with  the  wagon  at  about 
midday;  he  was  much  impressed  by  the  find. 
Then  we  began  an  examination  of  the  sur- 
rounding country,  taking  small  quantities  of 
"  wash "  here  and  there  from  likely-looking 
spots.  These  were  sent  back  to  the  water-hole 
with  instructions  that  the  various  lots  were  to 
be  kept  separate.  When  the  liquid  had  cleared 
a  little  I  recommenced  cradling.  However, 
except  in  one  instance,  I  did  not  find  a  single 
"  colour."  The  exception  was  in  respect  of  a 
parcel  of  "  wash  "  taken  from  the  margin  of 
the  dry  bed  of  the  river.  This  was  found  to 
contain  a  small  speck,  —  one  most  likely 
washed  down  from  the  terrace  where  we  had 
worked  in  the  first  instance.  However,  the 
existence  of  a  practically  payable  gold-field 
in  that  vicinity  was  inconceivable,  in  view  of 
the  almost  unmitigated  aridity. 

The  country  had  the  appearance  of  being 
highly  mineralised;  quartz  reefs  ran  like  white 
threads  in  every  direction.  Copper-carbonate 
stains  were  to  be  seen  on  many  of  the  rock- 


UNFAVOURABLE  CONDITIONS    201 

ledges  and  I  was  able  to  trace  a  narrow  vein 
of  galena  for  a  considerable  distance.  A  syste- 
matic examination  of  the  geological  formation 
of  that  region  would  have  been  of  great  interest. 

There  was  little  or  no  animal  life,  and  what 
little  existed  did  not  add  to  one's  comfort. 
While  the  sun  was  shining  existence  was  made 
a  burthen  by  a  blue  fly  which  continually  fed 
on  one;  it  was  about  the  size  of  a  horse-fly. 
The  bite,  not  felt  at  the  time,  was  followed 
by  a  flow  of  blood  and  afterwards  caused  con- 
siderable irritation.  We  killed  several  poison- 
ous snakes.  The  only  antelopes  we  saw  were 
klipspringers,  but  they  were  too  far  off  to 
shoot,  and  our  time  was  too  limited  to  admit 
of  our  pursuing  them. 

Mr.  Hein  had  told  me  that  there  was  a  small 
troop  of  zebras  to  be  found  high  up  on  the 
T'Oums  Mountain.  The  mountain  zebra  is 
the  wariest  animal  alive;  it  never  lies  down, 
but  sleeps  in  a  standing  posture,  with  the 
muzzle  resting  on  a  stone. 

I  spent  another  day  prospecting  in  the 
vicinity  but  could  find  no  more  gold.  When, 
in  the  evening,  we  were  sitting  at  the  camp 
fire,  an  idea  struck  me.  I  then  determined  to 
take  some  food,  a  kaross,  the  guns  and  the 
collecting  plant,  and  pay  a  flying  visit  to  the 


202  LODGES   IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

area  contained  within  the  sickle-bend.  With 
Hendrick  and  a  couple  of  bearers  I  should  be 
able  to  cover  twenty  miles  a  day.  My  plan 
was  to  strike  north-east  across  the  veld  until  I 
reached  the  river;  then  to  follow,  so  far  as 
possible,  the  course  of  the  latter  down  to 
Arris,  beyond  Kuboos.  Andries  was  to  take 
the  wagon  back  to  Kuboos  and  thence  to  Arris, 
where  he  would  wait  for  me.  My  journey,  if 
I  put  my  best  foot  forward,  should  not  con- 
sume more  than  three  days,  and  it  would  take 
Andries  fully  two  by  the  more  direct  route. 

I  could  but  ill  afford  the  time,  but  really  all 
that  was  involved  was  the  loss  of  one  day.  In 
all  probability  I  should  never  have  another 
opportunity  of  exploring  the  Richtersveld. 

Andries  grumbled  at  first,  but  eventually 
gave  in.  I  reminded  him  that  he  might  fill  in 
his  day  of  waiting  by  taking  a  walk  from  Arris 
to  the  mouth  of  the  Orange  River.  An  inspec- 
tion of  our  stores  shewed  that  we  were  still 
fairly  well  off.  So  Hendrick  was  sent  to  the 
scherms  of  our  followers  to  call  for  volunteers 
— men  who  knew  the  country  well — who  would 
act  as  guides  as  well  as  carry  our  baggage. 

My  only  regret  was  that  I  should  lose  the 
opportunity  of  bidding  farewell  to  my  excel- 
lent friend  the  Vicar. 


CHAPTER   XII 

EXPEDITION     TO     THE     RIVER — FLORA     AND      FAUNA — THE 

PNEUMORAS ABNORMAL   SPRINGBUCK THE    SEA-FOG 

— WILD  HORSES — FAUNA  AND  BIMINI. 

IN  the  grey  dawn  I  arose  and  resumed 
preparations  for  the  expedition.  When, 
after  breakfast,  I  sent  word  to  the  scherms 
that  I  wished  the  guides  to  report  themselves 
for  duty,  I  was  both  flattered  and  embarrassed 
to  find  that  every  man,  woman  and  child  of 
my  camp  following  was  not  only  willing,  but 
apparently  determined  to  join  my  colours. 
The  previous  day  had  seen  a  considerable 
increase  to  the  contingent,  which  now  included 
two  members  of  the  Raad.  The  number  was 
alarming;  nearly  twenty-five  per  cent,  of  the 
estimated  population  of  the  Richtersveld  must 
have  been  in  the  vicinity  of  the  camp.  The 
fame  of  my  liberality  had  gone  forth;  I  had 
distributed  some  tobacco  among  the  adults 
and  with  a  few  dates  had  gladdened  the  hearts 
of  the  children.  But  I  could  not  afford  to 
bestow  largesse  upon  the  crowd  which  at  my 
call  eagerly  stood  forth. 


204  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

It  was  a  strange  gathering.  The  people 
reminded  me  of  gnomes,  so  ugly  were  they — 
and  their  personal  uncleanliness  I  fear  corre- 
sponded with  their  looks.  Yet  I  found  them 
lovable,  because  they  were  natural,  ingenu- 
ous and  unspoilt.  There  was  not  a  pair  of 
breeches  nor  a  petticoat  among  the  lot;  men 
and  women  were  dressed  either  in  brayed 
skins  or  ancient  gunny-bags.  The  children 
were  hardly  dressed  at  all. 

I  think  it  was  the  feeling  that  I  was  hon- 
oured and  appreciated  far  above  my  deserts 
by  those  people  that  caused  me  to  like  them 
so  much.  They  looked  upon  me  as  a  power- 
ful and  beneficent  being  of  fabulous  resources, 
— just  because  I  had  treated  them  with  com- 
mon fairness  and  given  away  a  few  pounds  of 
cheap  tobacco  and  some  handfuls  of  dates. 

One  thing  was  clear :  my  influence  was  in- 
creasing; every  hour  fresh  arrivals  testified  to 
the  growth  of  my  fame.  I  felt  almost  sure  I 
could  organise  a  successful  revolution  in  the 
Richtersveld,  attack  Kuboos  and  sack  it,  de- 
pose Mr.  Hein,  and  reign  in  his  stead.  How- 
ever, I  at  once  put  the  temptation  behind  me. 
I  had  eaten  the  Vicar's  honey  and  drunk  his 
coffee;  therefore,  I  would  not  rob  him  of  his 
crown  and  kingdom.  Besides, — who  knew  but 


EMBARRASSING  POPULARITY      205 

that  when  my  supply  of  tobacco  and  dates  ran 
out,  my  popularity  might  not  wane? 

The  immediate  question  as  to  who  was  to 
accompany  me  was  a  delicate  one.  Hendrick, 
of  course,  was  chief  of  my  staff.  I  only  re- 
quired two  others,  but  ten — of  whom  four 
were  women — clamoured  insistently  for  enlist- 
ment, declaring  that  Hendrick  had,  the  previ- 
ous night,  contracted  with  them  individually 
and  collectively  for  the  intended  trip.  I  ex- 
plained the  inadequacy  of  my  reserve  of  food; 
I  laid  stress  on  the  local  scarcity  of  game.  I 
was  informed  that  at  that  time  of  year  "  veld- 
kost,"  the  uncultivated  produce  of  Nature's 
vegetable  garden,  was  plentiful,  and  that 
monkeys  abounded  in  the  river  forest.  In 
despair  I  called  up  the  two  members  of  the 
Raad  and  begged  of  them  to  arbitrate.  These 
men  were  diplomatists;  they  were  accustomed 
to  dealing  with  important  questions. 

A  violent  disputation  followed;  in  the 
course  of  it  the  clicks  of  the  Hottentot  tongue 
flew  about  like  fire-crackers.  Eventually  a 
most  preposterous  award  was  given.  Five 
Richtersvelders — three  men  and  two  women — 
were  to  be  enrolled  as  my  corps  of  guides. 
One  of  the  women  was  old;  she  might  have 
passed  for  a  revised  edition  of  the  Witch  of 


206  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

Endor.  However,  she  looked  wiry.  The 
other  was  young — not  more  than  thirty.  Was 
she  married?  Yes.  Where  was  her  husband? 
There  he  sat,  with  downcast  visage,  among 
the  rejected.  Then  I  would  not  take  her. 
The  lady  was  neither  well-favoured  nor 
savoury;  nevertheless  I  had  my  character  to 
consider,  and  the  punishment  locally  pre- 
scribed for  the  abduction  of  a  married  woman 
— even  with  her  husband's  consent — might 
have  been  three  dozen  with  a  strop. 

But  the  members  of  the  Raad  had  selected 
her.  She  threw  the  tanned  skin  over  her  head 
and  wailed.  Beauty  in  distress  prevailed ;  but 
her  husband  also  had  to  be  included  in  the 
contingent.  The  two  ladies  had  names,  but 
such  were  difficult  to  remember  and  almost  im- 
possible to  pronounce,  so  I  decided  to  sub- 
stitute for  them,  respectively,  Fauna  and 
Flora.  The  special  work  of  these  insistent 
females  was  to  be  the  collection  of  natural 
history  specimens. 

Very  early  that  morning  I  sent  some  of  the 
children  out  to  look  for  reptiles,  insects  and 
miscellaneous  small  deer.  It  was  principally 
beetles  and  lizards  they  brought  back.  None 
were  very  rare.  Julodis  Gariepina,  a  beetle 
somewhat  resembling  a  green  and  yellow 


THE    INSECT   MINSTREL      207 

bottle-brush,  I  was  glad  to  add  to  my  stock 
for  distribution.  Of  this  there  were  a  number 
of  specimens.  But  one  of  the  boys  had 
brought  three  examples  of  an  Orthopterous 
insect, — a  pneumora,  which  was  new  to  me. 
The  pneumora  is  a  large,  green,  bladder-like 
creature,  whose  whole  body  has  been  con- 
verted into  a  musical  instrument;  there  is,  in 
fact,  a  complete  key-board  on  each  flank. 
Using  its  trochanter  as  a  plectrum,  this  insect 
makes  weird  music,  which  can  be  heard  at  a 
considerable  distance.  The  youngster  who 
had  brought  these  quaint  creatures  received, 
in  addition  to  the  ordinary  currency  of  dates, 
a  special  reward  of  three  pence.  The  nearest 
shop  where  these  could  be  spent  was  at  Port 
Nolloth,  upwards  of  a  hundred  miles  away. 
This  reckless  liberality  on  my  part  was  fraught 
with  seriously  embarrassing  consequences. 
The  pneumora  is  colloquially  known  as  the 
"  ghoonya." 

At  length  we  made  a  start.  Andries  was 
so  amused  at  the  details  of  my  caravan  that 
he  almost  became  apoplectic.  I  felt  sure  that 
the  regard  my  old  friend  had  for  me  was  often 
mitigated  by  doubts  as  to  my  sanity.  The  out- 
look of  Andries  was  limited;  however,  he  pos- 
sessed the  saving  grace  of  a  sense  of  humour. 


208  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

Our  course  lay  along  the  western  side  of 
the  long,  diminishing  spur  which  almost  con- 
nects the  T'Oums  range  with  the  river,  its 
compass-bearing  being  north-east  by  north. 
Fauna,  the  elder  of  the  two  ladies,  was  ordered 
to  devote  her  attention  to  collecting  zoological 
specimens.  She  was  given  a  strong  metal 
receptacle  half  filled  with  methylated  spirits 
in  which  corrosive  sublimate  had  been  dis- 
solved. In  this  she  had  to  souse  her  trove  of 
lizards,  scorpions,  centipedes  and  such  snakes 
as  were  not  too  large.  She  also  carried  a 
cyanide  bottle  in  which  to  immolate  beetles 
and  other  insects.  Flora  was  entrusted  with 
a  portfolio  and  directed  to  gather  botanical 
specimens.  She  wandered  far  afield,  gleaning 
the  arid  pastures.  Fauna  begged  hard  for 
permission  to  accompany  her,  but  this  I 
sternly  refused.  I  was  positive  that — in  spite 
of  my  solemn  warnings  on  the  subject — as 
soon  as  these  women  had  got  out  of  sight  they 
would  have  drunk  the  poisoned  spirit.  If  this 
had  happened,  the  Raad  might  have  hanged 
me.  I  realised  what  a  dangerous  precedent  I 
had  established  in  tacitly  approving  of  the 
punishment  inflicted  on  Lothario.  Whilst 
Fauna  carried  that  tank,  she  should  not  stir 
from  my  side. 


THE  DRYING  UP  209 

We  passed  over  some  broken  country  and 
then  reached  a  more  or  less  level  plateau, 
which  seemed  to  extend  almost  to  the  river. 
Anon  we  crossed  the  ancient  bed  of  what  had 
once  been  a  tributary  river.  It  was  as  dry  as 
the  Bone-Valley  of  Ezekiel.  Yet  undoubtedly 
water  had  flowed  therein,  continuously,  and 
that  not  so  very  long  before.  The  course  was 
full  of  deep,  water-rounded  drift.  It  was  this 
kind  of  thing  that  brought  home  to  one  the 
circumstance  that  a  great  change  in  the 
direction  of  aridity  must  have  taken  place  in 
South  Africa  within  a  comparatively  short 
period.  It  was  clear  that  not  long  previously 
this  valley  had  carried  a  constantly-flowing 
stream, — one  that  took  its  source  from  the 
great  T'Oums  range.  The  latter,  not  more 
than  ten  miles  away,  was  now  arid  as  a  heap 
of  cinders. 

As  we  approached  the  river  the  naked  and 
enormous  ramparts  of  the  Great  Namaqua- 
land  Mountains  came  more  and  more  into 
evidence.  They  seemed  to  spring  sheer  from 
the  narrow  strip  of  forest  at  the  water  side. 
From  a  distance  the  upper  strata  appeared  to 
be  of  black  basalt.  The  purple  mystery  which 
so  richly  filled  their  vast  chasms  was  a  feast 
to  the  eye. 

N 


210  LODGES   IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

In  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  we  reached 
the  river.  It  was  at  half-flood.  In  the  mass, 
the  water  looked  muddy,  but  one  could  see 
the  bottom  of  a  pannikin  filled  with  it,  and 
the  taste  was  delicious.  The  lovely,  dark- 
green  fringe  of  forest — generally  continuous 
on  both  sides,  but  occasionally  adorning  one 
only — was  soothing  to  gaze  on.  We  rested  for 
a  while,  and  then  took  our  course  along  the 
left-hand  curve  of  the  sickle-bend,  —  thus 
trending  more  to  the  north-westward.  The 
way  was  extremely  rough.  When  it  was  prac- 
ticable to  keep  close  to  the  river  bank  we 
made  good  progress,  but  now  and  then  were 
obliged  to  recede  for  the  purpose  of  avoiding 
rocky  bluffs.  Then  our  experiences  were 
purgatorial,  for  we  had  to  plunge  into  and 
climb  out  of  a  succession  of  deep,  sand-choked 
clefts.  On  the  southern  bank  of  the  river  there 
was  comparatively  little  forest. 

Just  about  sundown  we  reached  a  wide 
terrace  of  stone  below  a  cliff,  and  close  to  the 
water's  edge,  so  we  decided  to  camp  there  for 
the  night.  The  only  game  we  had  seen  was 
a  covey  of  pheasants;  of  these  I  managed  to 
bag  three.  I  also  shot  two  monkeys  in  the 
forest.  I  felt  like  a  murderer  in  consequence, 
— but  my  followers  had  to  be  fed.  They  had 


MISPLACED  ENERGY          211 

had  little  or  no  opportunity  of  gathering  "  veld 
kost." 

I  examined  the  collections  of  Flora  and 
Fauna  and  carefully  took  possession  of  the 
tank  of  poisoned  spirit.  The  spoil  did  not 
amount  to  very  much.  The  most  interesting 
item  was  a  locust — very  like  those  which  occa- 
sionally over-run  the  Cape  Colony,  and  do 
such  enormous  damage.  It  was,  however, 
clearly  a  separate  species,  being  larger  and 
lighter  in  colour  than  the  much-dreaded  migra- 
tory insect. 

Soon  after  we  halted  three  boys  approached 
along  our  trail,  each  carrying  something  with 
great  care.  They  drew  near,  and  with  an  air 
of  conscious  virtue,  deposited  their  offerings 
at  my  feet. 

One  had  brought  a  small,  elongated,  circu- 
lar basket  made  of  rushes,  with  the  top  care- 
fully closed.  I  opened  this  and  found  it  full 
of  green,  bladdery  ghoonyas.  There  were 
dozens  and  dozens  of  them,  squirming  and 
crawling  over  one  another.  The  next  boy  car- 
ried a  rusty,  battered  nail-keg.  This,  likewise, 
contained  ghoonyas.  The  third  boy  had  de- 
nuded himself  of  his  goatskin  and  tied  a  bunch 
in  it,  big  enough  to  hold  a  moderate  plum- 
pudding.  This,  too,  was  full  of  ghoonyas — 


212  LODGES   IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

green  and  bladdery,  alive  and  squirming.  The 
situation  had  got  beyond  me ;  words  could  not 
express  my  over-wrought  feelings. 

The  pneumoras — several  hundred  of  them 
— impatient  after  their  long  confinement  and 
irritated  at  having  been  shaken  about  on  the 
journey,  climbed  out  of  their  respective  pri- 
sons and  began  crawling  about  over  the  face 
of  the  rock,  endeavouring  to  escape.  The 
three  boys,  aided  by  Flora  and  Fauna,  shep- 
herded them  back  with  twigs  plucked  for  the 
occasion.  I  searched  the  remotest  fastnesses 
of  memory  for  a  precedent  to  guide  me,  but 
could  find  none.  Hendrick  and  the  others 
looked  on  gravely.  Had  anyone  laughed, 
murder  would  most  likely  have  been  com- 
mitted. By  my  direction  the  shepherding 
operations  were  suspended  and  the  ghoonyas 
fully  restored  to  liberty. 

Obviously,  something  had  to  be  done.  So 
as  soon  as  my  feelings  were  sufficiently  under 
control  I  called  up  the  interpreter  and  made 
a  speech.  I  declared  with  emphasis  that  I  did 
not  want  these  ghoonyas;  that  I  had  been 
anxious  to  secure  only  a  few  specimens — 
half-a-dozen  at  most,  but  that  I  really  and 
truly  did  not  require  or  desire  any  more. 
However  (and  here  is  where  I  made  a  blunder) 


TARANTULAS   TO   SUPPER    213 

as  that  lot  of  insects  had  been  collected  on 
my  behalf  in  good  faith,  I  would  reward  the 
collectors  to  the  extent  of  three  pence  each, 
plus  a  few  dates.  The  gifts  were  joyfully 
accepted  and  the  boys  departed. 

My  enjoyment  of  the  evening  was  largely 
spoilt  by  tarantulas.  Hundreds  of  these,  at- 
tracted by  the  light  of  the  fire,  came  out  from 
among  the  rocks  and  ran  fearlessly  among  us. 
However,  I  managed  to  relish  my  supper  of 
roast  pheasant;  while  my  followers  indulged 
in  a  semi-cannibalistic  repast  of  barbacued 
monkey.  Then  I  lit  my  pipe,  took  my  kaross 
and  sought  for  a  suitable  couch  some  distance 
away.  After  lying  down  I  felt  something 
crawling  on  my  neck;  I  sprang  up,  imagining 
it  to  be  a  tarantula,  but  it  turned  out  to  be 
only  a  ghoonya. 

Dawn  broke  deliciously.  The  chanting 
falcons  swooped  from  their  cliff-eyries,  and 
filled  the  morning  with  wild  music.  A  swim 
in  the  swirling  current  would  be  a  joy.  I  gave 
Hendrick  my  clothes  in  a  bundle  and  sent  him 
with  them  along  the  bank  to  a  rocky  point 
about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  down  stream. 
I  entered  the  water,  swimming  carefully  while 
near  the  bank,  for  fear  of  snags.  The  current 
carried  me  luxuriously  away.  I  emerged  at 


214  LODGES   IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

the  spot  where  my  clothes  were,  and  returned 
to  camp  for  breakfast.  All  hands  were  forag- 
ing for  "  veld  kost  "  among  the  kopjes.  Soon 
they  returned,  laden  with  strange  vegetable 
spoil. 

The  previous  day  had  been  unusually  cool, 
but  that  morning  opened  with  a  breath  from 
the  Kalihari, — the  definite  and  unalterable 
promise  of  severe  heat.  This  would  last  until 
the  sea-breeze  reached  us,  late  in  the  after- 
noon. We  marched  along  the  river  bank,  ad- 
miring the  towering  bluffs  that  glowed  in  the 
sunshine  and  then  allowing  our  eyes  to  sink 
down  and  drink  refreshment  from  the  de- 
licious greenery  of  the  forest.  We  were  now 
well  round  the  eastern  section  of  the  bend, 
and  were  travelling  almost  due  west.  More 
pheasants  and  monkeys  fell  to  my  gun.  An 
army  on  the  march  must  levy  tribute  on  the 
'  territory  it  passes  through. 

The  character  of  the  country  somewhat 
changed  as  the  river  curved  southward.  On 
the  northern  side  of  the  river  the  mountains 
were  not  quite  so  high;  on  the  southern,  they 
now  sprang  steeply  from  the  river  bed.  Here 
and  there,  under  the  overhanging  edges  of  the 
higher  terraces,  we  noticed  caves.  A  murmur 
stole  up  the  gorge  and  waxed  as  we  advanced. 


PRIMITIVE  ARCHITECTURE      215 

It  came  from  the  steep  and  tortuous  foaming 
rapids  where  the  mighty  chasm  remade  itself 
for  a  space.  Here  the  river  was  as  though 
flung  like  a  ringlet  among  the  menacing 
ranges. 

But  in  view  of  the  fact  that  we  had  not  been 
able  to  make  quite  as  much  headway  as  I  had 
anticipated,  I  regretfully  felt  constrained  to 
leave  the  vicinity  of  the  river  for  a  time  and 
take  a  course  across  some  very  rough  country 
behind  the  south-western  bluffs.  We  could 
not  get  from  the  guides  an  assurance  of  being 
able  to  make  our  way  down  through  the 
tortuous  gorge. 

We  soon  reached  a  large,  broken  plateau, 
on  which  several  small  flocks  of  goats  were 
grazing.  Later,  we  found  some  scherms 
occupied  by  human  beings.  These  rudimen- 
tary dwellings  consisted  of  a  few  bushes  piled, 
crescent-wise,  against  the  wind.  A  rush  mat, 
its  position  being  altered  with  the  changing 
hours,  afforded  shelter  from  the  sun.  Rain 
falls  so  seldom  that  it  is  not  taken  into  account 
in  the  architecture  of  the  Richtersveld.  The 
dwellers  in  these  scherms  were  of  the  same 
ill-favoured  type  as  my  guides.  They  were 
filled  with  curiosity  as  to  the  object  of  my 
expedition.  But  curiosity  paled  in  the  joy 


216  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

of  receiving  a  little  tobacco.  And  I  found  I 
could  still  spare  a  few  dates  for  the  children. 

In  one  of  the  scherms  was  a  newly-born 
baby,  a  girl.  It  weirdly  resembled  a  hairless, 
light-yellow  monkey.  I  made  the  mother  very 
happy  by  presenting  her  with  a  shilling  and 
my  only  pocket-handkerchief, — a  red  bandana. 
The  shilling  judiciously  invested  at  com- 
pound interest,  might  provide  the  youngster 
with  a  dowry. 

After  a  long,  monotonous  and  extremely  hot 
walk,  we  got  beyond  the  convoluted  gorge  and 
once  more  began  to  descend  towards  the  river. 
,We  now  had  a  view  of  the  level  coast  desert — 
or  would  have  had  if  the  landscape  had  not 
been  to  a  great  extent  shrouded  in  fog.  The 
river  had  widened  and  apparently  become 
deeper.  After  its  plunge  into  the  abyss  at 
Aughrabies,  its  struggle  for  many  hundred 
miles  through  the  depths  of  the  black,  torrid 
gorge, — it  advanced  with  silent,  stately,  de- 
liberate stride  to  rejoin  the  ocean — the  mother 
that  gave  it  birth. 

The  landscape  ahead  had  completely 
altered  its  character.  On  the  northern  side 
of  the  river  it  was  still  mountainous,  but  the 
mountains  had  receded  somewhat,  and  they 
rapidly  decreased  in  height  to  the  westward. 


SEA  COWS  217 

On  the  southern  side  the  mountain  range  came 
to  an  abrupt  ending.  Rounded  hillocks 
emerged  here  and  there  from  the  plain  which, 
as  it  approached  the  coast,  was  carpeted  with 
patches  of  white,  slowly-drifting  fog.  This 
made  the  detail  difficult  to  appraise. 

We  descended  the  flank  of  the  last  really 
high  mountain,  intending  to  rest  just  below  the 
lordly  gate  of  the  immense  labyrinth  from 
which  we  had  emerged, — from  the  threshold  of 
which  the  mist-shrouded  plains  extend  to  the 
Atlantic.  For  when  the  hot  winds  of  the 
desert  stream  over  the  cold  antarctic  current 
that  washes  this  coast,  they  draw  up  moisture 
which  is  blown  back  landward  in  the  form  of 
vapour.  Herein  lies  the  explanation  of  the 
circumstance  that  the  coast  desert  is  occas- 
ionally, for  months  at  a  time,  densely 
shrouded  in  mist. 

There — before  the  mountain  gate — where 
the  wearied  water  glided  away  in  thankful 
silence  from  the  last  of  the  thunderous  rapids 
that  vexed  its  course, — was  one  of  the 
favourite  resorts  of  the  only  remaining  school 
of  sea-cows  on  that  side  of  Africa,  south  of  the 
tropical  line.  Of  all  the  myriad  hosts  of  won- 
derful wild  creatures  that  until  lately  popu- 
lated these  desert  plains  and  mountains,  only 


218  LODGES   IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

this  one  school  of  hippopotami  and  a  few 
hundred  springbuck  survive.  I  could  hardly 
hope  to  find  the  sea-cows — at  all  events  while 
daylight  lasted;  it  would  suffice  if  at  night  I 
might  listen  to  their  snorting  and  blowing — 
to  the  rustling  in  the  reed-brakes  as  the  huge 
creatures  emerged  from  the  water  in  search  of 
food.  These  sounds  would  bring  back 
memories  of  days  long  past — of  adventures  in 
other  pastures  of  South  Africa's  rich  and 
varied  wonderland. 

Before  the  sun  had  set  we  camped  in  a 
sandy  hollow,  a  few  hundred  yards  from  the 
river's  bank.  There  were  no  rocks  in  the  im- 
mediate vicinity  so  we  hoped  to  escape  the 
usual  plague  of  tarantulas.  After  a  long, 
luxurious  swim  in  the  placid  river,  I  returned 
to  examine  the  collections  of  Flora  and  Fauna. 
The  latter  had  been  permitted  to  wander  afield 
that  day.  The  number  of  centipedes,  scor- 
pions and  miscellaneous  reptiles  which  had 
been  soused  in  the  poisoned  spirit  was  so  great 
that  I  no  longer  feared  her  attempting  to 
sample  it  as  a  beverage.  The  harvest  was 
more  rich  and  interesting  than  usual.  Flora 
had  found  a  gorgeous  stapelia  with  a  more 
than  ordinarily  atrocious  smell,  and  Fauna 
had  captured  a  beetle  infested  with  a  most 


A  PLETHORA  OF  GHOONYAS  219 

extraordinary  parasite;  also  a  small,  speckled 
toad — a  novelty,  I  thought — and  a  scorpion 
which,  when  stretched  out,  measured  eight  and 
a  half  inches.  Well  done,  Fauna ! 

Hendrick  had  roasted  a  pheasant  to  a  turn. 
I  was  savagely  hungry;  just  as  I  was  about  to 
begin  eating  I  noticed  some  people  approach- 
ing along  our  trail.  These  comprised  a  man, 
two  women  and  several  children.  I  was  filled 
with  foreboding.  The  strangers  approached, 
each  carrying  something  with  carefulness. 
They  set  offerings  before  me.  These  con- 
sisted of  ghoonyas,  and  nothing  else. 

What  did  these  people  take  me  for;  did 
they  suppose  I  lived  on  a  ghoonya  diet — that 
I  fed  my  caravan  on  ghoonya  soup?  Was  I 
to  have  the  extinction  of  an  innocent  species 
of  orthoptera  on  my  already  burthened  con- 
science; or  would  the  result  of  all  this  be  the 
adoption  of  the  ghoonya  as  the  totem  of  the 
Richtersveld  Tribe?  Those  unlucky  three- 
penny pieces, — my  unfortunate  enthusiasm 
over  the  first  specimens — these  seemed  to 
have  set  the  whole  of  the  local  population  on 
the  hunting  trail  for  ghoonyas.  Anger  gave 
way  to  despair.  I  spoke  a  few  wrords  of  appeal 
to  Hendrick,  seized  my  fragrant  pheasant  and 
hurriedly  made  for  the  open  veld.  When  I 


220  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

returned,  half  an  hour  later,  the  ghoonyas  and 
the  strangers  had  disappeared.  I  never  en- 
quired as  to  how  Hendrick  had  disposed  of 
them. 

After  darkness  had  fallen  I  took  my  kaross 
and  strolled  down  to  the  water's  edge.  There 
I  spent  some  peaceful,  contemplative  hours 
waiting  for  the  sea-cows  which,  however,  did 
not  come.  Then,  with  a  contented  heart  I 
welcomed  the  touch  of  the  wing  of  sleep  upon 
my  eyelids,  and  turned  over  to  compose  my 
tired  thews  for  recuperative  repose  against  the 
fatigues  of  the  morrow. 

Just  before  dawn  I  woke  up  cold  and  very 
damp.  A  thick  fog  had  rolled  in  with  the 
westerly  breeze.  My  kaross  was  soaked 
through.  So  dense  was  the  vapour  that  I  had 
to  wait,  shivering,  until  it  was  broad  daylight 
before  attempting  to  find  my  way  back  to  the 
camp.  Even  then  I  had  to  bend  down  and 
trace,  step  by  step,  my  spoor  of  the  previous 
night. 

Hendrick,  who  brought  no  blanket,  cowered 
miserably  over  a  few  inadequate  embers.  He 
was  wet  through.  The  fuel  collected  when 
we  camped  had  been  all  consumed.  The 
candle-bush — that  boon  to  travellers  in  Bush- 
manland — does  not  grow  in  the  coast  desert. 


FLORA  AS  FOG  HORN         221 

I  roused  up  the  guides  and  ordered  them  out 
for  fatigue  duty  in  the  form  of  collecting 
firewood.  They  attempted  to  shift  the  respon- 
sibility to  Flora  and  Fauna,  but  I  sternly  re- 
pudiated this.  The  men,  one  and  all,  had  to 
turn  out.  Flora  was  young;  she  could  accom- 
pany them,  but  the  venerable  Fauna  might,  if 
she  so  desired,  stay  behind  and  keep  the  fad- 
ing embers  alive.  I  assigned  to  her  a  duty — 
she  had  to  become  a  fog-horn  for  the  occasion 
She  was  ordered  to  shout  at  intervals  and  con- 
tinuously bang  one  of  our  two  tin  pannikins  on 
our  only  tin  plate.  This  would  prevent  any 
members  of  the  scattered  contingent  getting 
lost.  So  dense  was  the  fog  that  objects  were 
invisible  at  the  distance  of  a  yard. 

Soon  we  had  a  roaring  fire.  As  we  would 
reach  Arris  that  afternoon,  I  used  up  all  the 
remaining  coffee  in  a  general  treat.  Hen- 
drick's  pannikin  was  the  only  one  available  for 
use  in  the  distribution  of  the  precious  fluid,  so 
after  regaling  Fauna  first  and  then  Flora,  the 
four  men  drew  lots  to  determine  who  was  to 
drink  next.  The  last  man  claimed  the  grounds 
as  his  perquisite.  His  claim  was  disputed,  but 
after  carefully  weighing  the  circumstances,  I 
decided  in  his  favour. 

Soon  the  wind  dropped  and  the  mist  thinned 


222  LODGES   IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

out.  We  made  a  start  and,  after  walking  for 
about  an  hour,  reached  a  camp.  It  comprised 
an  ancient  wagon  of  the  wooden-axle  type,  a 
mat-house  and  a  small  goat-kraal  full  of  stock. 
The  establishment  belonged  to  the  most  well- 
to-do  man  in  the  Richtersveld.  He  was 
pointed  out  to  me  as  such  sitting  among  the 
members  of  the  Raad.  I  then  noticed  that  he 
wore  a  good  pair  of  breeches  and  an  air  of 
prosperity.  This  man  was  the  local  repre- 
sentative of  Capital.  He  was  the  possessor  of 
a  pony — a  creature  hardly  as  big  as  a 
middling-sized  donkey. 

I  enquired  about  game.  Yes,  there  were 
springbuck  in  the  vicinity — not  more  than  two 
or  three  miles  from  the  camp,  and  not  far  from 
out  of  our  course  to  Arris.  They  were  said  to 
be  comparatively  tame.  Probably  they  had 
acquired  a  contempt  for  the  Richtersveld  guns, 
which,  I  fancied,  were  of  an  antiquated  type. 

I  hired  the  pony  for  the  day.  My  principal 
reason  for  doing  this  was  to  save  my  boots, 
which  were  rapidly  wearing  out.  Flora, 
Fauna  and  Flora's  husband  were  loaded  up 
with  the  baggage  and  sent  on  to  Arris.  Hen- 
drick,  the  three  remaining  guides,  the  Capita- 
list owner  of  the  pony  and  I  went  to  look  for 
the  springbuck. 


RICHTERSVELD  SPRINGBUCK  223 

Our  course  lay  south-west.  The  fog  had 
receded  but  not  disappeared;  it  hung  more  or 
less  thickly  over  the  plains  before  us.  But  it 
lifted  and  fell  in  a  most  peculiar  way;  slow 
undulations,  and  graceful,  deliberate  eddies 
played  along  its  indefinite  fringe.  Soon  we 
noticed  game  spoor.  Yes, — the  Capitalist  was 
right.  But  how  large  the  spoor  was;  it  sug- 
gested blesbuck  rather  than  springbuck. 

What  was  that  looming  through  the  fog- 
fringe?  It  looked  almost  as  large  as  a  cow. 
But  the  brown  stripe  and  the  lyre-formed 
horns  shewed  up  clearly  every  now  and  then; 
the  creature  was  indubitably  a  springbuck.  It 
was  not  more  than  two  hundred  yards  away. 
I  supposed  it  was  the  changing  drift  of  vapour 
that  distorted  and  magnified  the  animal. 
However,  I  fired  and  it  fell. 

When  we  approached  the  struggling  crea- 
ture I  gazed  upon  it  with  astonishment;  it  was 
so  immense.  Why,  it  must  have  been  nearly 
twice  as  large  as  the  springbuck  of  the  desert. 
I  asked  the  Capitalist  if  this  were  not  an  ex- 
traordinary specimen.  No,  he  said,  all  the 
bucks  in  the  vicinity  were  about  as  large. 
Then  I  recalled  having  read  in  Francis 
Galton's  book  that  he  shot  a  springbuck 
weighing  a  hundred  and  sixty  pounds  near 


224  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

Walfish  Bay.  These  Richtersveld  bucks, — so 
the  Capitalist  informed  me,  do  not  trek.  They 
must  belong  to  a  distinct  sub-species, — the 
range  of  which  is  restricted  to  the  Coast 
Desert. 

As  we  wandered  on  towards  Arris,  the  fog- 
curtain  kept  ascending  and  again  settling 
down.  But  it  did  not  lift  to  any  great  extent; 
one  could  never  see  farther  than  from  three  to 
four  hundred  yards  ahead.  I  shot  three  more 
bucks ;  all  were  of  the  same  type.  One  young 
animal,  with  horns  not  more  than  a  hands- 
breadth  long,  which  I  shot  by  mistake  when 
the  fog  was  more  than  usually  thick,  was  larger 
than  the  ordinary  buck  of  the  inland  desert. 
I  presented  one  of  the  four  bucks  to  the 
Capitalist;  he  hid  it  among  some  bushes,  in- 
tending to  pick  it  up  as  he  returned  from  Arris 
with  the  pony.  The  other  three  carcases  we 
took  on  with  us.  I  meant  to  cut  one  up  and 
divide  it  among  the  guides.  It  would  not  have 
done  to  have  left  the  carcase  to  be  dismem- 
bered on  the  return  journey;  these  people  were 
so  jealous  of  each  other  that  a  fight  would 
surely  have  resulted. 

We  reached  Arris  late  in  the  afternoon.  I 
learnt  that  some  people  had  been  there  with 
ghoonyas,  but  Fauna  so  terrified  them  with  a 


WILD  HORSES  225 

description  of  my  wrath  on  the  occasion  of  the 
last  gatherers  turning  up,  that  they  fled.  To 
prevent  misunderstanding  it  had  better  be  ex- 
plained that  Arris  is  not  a  city — not  even  a 
hamlet.  It  is  merely  a  place  where,  in  speci- 
ally favourable  seasons,  a  few  of  the  Richters- 
velders  sojourn  with  their  goats.  The  locality 
is  usually  known  by  another  name ;  one  that  is 
more  realistic  than  refined. 

Andries  had  rather  chafed  under  the  delay. 
Not  knowing  that  springbuck  were  to  be  found 
in  the  vicinity  he  undertook  the  suggested  ex- 
pedition to  the  mouth  of  the  Orange  River, 
but  turned  back  on  account  of  the  dense  fog. 
However,  he  saw  what  I  should  dearly  love  to 
have  seen :  a  troop  of  those  wild  horses  which 
roam  over  that  section  of  the  desert. 

He  had  been  walking  along  the  river  shore 
about  ten  miles  from  here  when  the  fog  parti- 
ally lifted.  Within  about  two  hundred  yards 
of  him  he  saw  eight  shaggy  horses  with  long, 
flowing  manes  and  tails.  They  at  once 
plunged  into  the  water  and  swam  out  to  the 
celebrated  islands — that  forest-covered  archi- 
pelago which  there  enriches  the  river's  widened 
course.  I  much  regretted  having  missed  that 
sight.  Descended  as  they  are  from  tame 
animals  which  escaped  from  man's  control, 
o 


226  LODGES   IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

these  horses  are  as  wild  as  the  oryx.  They 
have  so  far  evaded  capture  by  invariably 
taking  to  the  water  when  pursued,  and  seeking 
refuge  in  the  extensive  island  labyrinth. 
Long  may  they  continue  to  do  so. 

The  hour  had  now  arrived  for  disbanding 
my  corps  of  guides.  I  think  I  may  truthfully 
say  that  we  parted  with  genuine  mutual 
esteem.  The  carcase  of  one  of  the  springbuck 
had  been  dismembered  and  divided  by  lot 
among  the  faithful  six.  Pay  had  been  dis- 
tributed; likewise  tobacco.  I  delivered  a 
valedictory  address. 

With  evident  reluctance  these  people 
picked  up  their  portions  of  meat  and  prepared 
to  depart.  Fauna  apparently  desired  to  com- 
municate with  me  privately;  she  stood  apart 
and  gazed  with  appeal  in  her  eyes.  I  went  to 
her;  she  asked  in  a  low,  nervous  voice — speak- 
ing in  much-broken  Dutch — if  I  would  not 
send  her  some  of  the  medicine  made  from  the 
reptiles  and  insects  which  had  been  collected. 

At  length  I  caught  the  drift  of  her  meaning  : 
she  thought  I  was  about  to  prepare  from  these 
ingredients  some  philtre  that  would  bring  back 
vanished  youth.  Truly,  the  mind  of  man  is 
one  when  the  crust  of  convention  is  pierced. 
This  poor  old  creature,  like  Ponce  de  Leon, 


HOMEWARD  BOUND  227 

dreamt  of  Bimini  and  longed  for  a  return  of 
the  thrilling  ecstasies  of  life's  morning.  It  cut 
me  to  the  heart  to  have  to  shatter  the  fabric 
of  her  dream. 

We  decided  to  start  for  home  on  the  follow- 
ing morning.  I  was  sorry  not  to  be  able  to 
visit  the  Orange  River  mouth  and  its 
flamingo-haunted  dunes — the  Vigita  Magna 
of  the  old  geographers.  Strange,  that  I 
should  again  have  had  to  miss  it  when  only  a 
few  miles  away.  But  I  was  really  pressed  for 
time;  other  duties  insistently  called  me  hun- 
dreds of  miles  thence.  Nevertheless,  had  it 
not  been  for  the  fog,  I  would  have  expended 
another  day.  But  the  fog  towards  the  coast 
was  denser  than  ever,  and  there  did  not  appear 
to  be  any  reasonable  likelihood  of  its  clearing. 
So  I  would  forego  the  barren  privilege  of  being 
able  to  say  that  I  had  actually  visited  Vigita 
Magna. 

Our  homeward  course  lay  more  to  the  west- 
ward, for  we  travelled  along  the  coast  until 
close  to  Port  Nolloth.  We  found  fresh  water 
at  various  spots,  trickling  out  of  sand  hum- 
mocks in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  sea. 
We  had  a  comparatively  easy  journey,  for 
there  were  no  steep,  rocky  ridges  to  cross. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

KAMIEBIES — THE  BLOSSOMING  WILDERNESS — THE  OSTRICH 
POACHERS — HAIL  STORMS — THE  SPRINGBUCK  BEHIND 
THE  DUNE — HOW  ANDRIES  FOUND  ME. 

RELIABLE  information  reached  me  to 
the  effect  that  the  Half-Breed  ostrich- 
poachers  had  again  been  at  their  ne- 
farious work.  So  we  decided,  Andries  and  I, 
to  make  a  swoop  upon  the  camp  which  these 
people  had  established  in  southern  Bushman- 
land.  This  camp  was  in  the  vicinity  of  some 
wells,  the  water  of  which  was  brackish  to  such 
an  extent  that  only  men  or  animals  who  had 
gradually  accustomed  themselves  to  its  flavour 
and  properties,  could  consume  it.  Thus  the 
gang  of  poachers  had  for  a  long  time  been 
able  to  defy  us.  After  rain,  however,  the  water 
grew  somewhat  less  brackish.  On  the  rare 
occasions  when  rain  fell  heavily,  the  propor- 
tion of  brack  decreased  so  much  that  the  water 
became,  for  a  few  weeks,  more  or  less  fit  for 
ordinary  consumption. 

The  reason  was  a  phenomenal  one ;  the  rains 
had  set  in  a  month  before  their  usual  time 


THE  SPRINGBUCK  TREK      229 

throughout  the  western  desert  and  the  moun- 
tain tract.  It  was  then  the  end  of  March,  and 
rain  had  been  falling,  off  and  on,  for  the 
previous  fortnight.  Rarely,  indeed,  did  the 
drought  break  before  the  middle  of  April. 

There  was  also  news  of  the  springbucks. 
The  great  migration  was  not  due  to  take  place 
for  months,  but  word  had  reached  Andries  to 
the  effect  that  in  the  desert  somewhere  to  the 
east  of  Kamiebies  a  moderately  large  herd  had 
been  seen.  If  the  news  were  true,  that  herd 
must  have  been  the  first  wave  of  an  early- 
coming  tide.  Thus  we  might  be  able  to  settle 
accounts  with  the  poachers  and  provide  our 
year's  supply  of  "  bultong  "  in  the  course  of 
one  expedition. 

The  annual  migration  of  springbucks  across 
the  desert  is,  I  am  positive,  an  institution  of 
immemorial  antiquity.  The  reason  for  it  is 
obvious.  The  fawns  are  born  in  winter,  and  it 
is  necessary  that  at  the  time  the  does  should 
have  green  food  to  eat.  But  Bushmanland, 
excepting  its  extreme  western  fringe,  is  far 
drier  in  winter  than  in  summer.  In  winter  the 
feathery  plumes  of  the  "  toa  "  crumble  away 
to  dust  and  the  stumps  of  the  tussocks  turn 
jet-black.  Then  the  plains  become  unmiti- 
gated desert. 


230  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

Winter  is  the  season  during  which  rain  falls 
among  the  mountains  lying  between  Bushman- 
land  and  the  coast  desert.  Then  for  a  few 
short  weeks  the  mountain  range  covers  itself 
with  verdure  and  flowers.  Therefore  the  trek. 
However,  of  late  years  the  mountain  tract  has 
been  largely  taken  up  by  farmers,  so  the 
springbuck,  as  a  rule,  invade  only  its  eastern 
margin.  The  western  fringe  of  the  plains 
usually  get  a  slight  sprinkling  from  the  moun- 
tain rains.  The  exception  happens  when  the 
trek,  instead  of  being  distributed  over  a  wide 
extent,  concentrates.  Then  the  springbuck,  in 
their  myriads,  over-run  hundreds  of  square 
miles  of  the  mountain  tract,  and  clear  the  face 
of  the  country  of  vegetation  as  completely  as 
would  a  swarm  of  locusts. 

The  term  "  springbuck  "  is  not  a  satisfying 
one  for  this  ethereal  creature — this  most  lovely 
and  graceful  of  the  animals  whose  home  is  in 
the  desert.  The  name  is  too  obvious ;  why  not 
call  it  what  it  really  is,  a  "  gazelle?"  •  But  the 
early  Dutch  inhabitants  of  South  Africa  not 
alone  lacked  imagination,  but  shewed  positive 
ineptitude  in  the  names  they  bestowed  on  the 
various  wild  animals.  Take  for  instance  the 
term  "  gemsbok,"  as  applied  to  the  oryx; 
what  could  be  more  inappropriate?  "Gems- 


POACHERS  231 

bok  "  means  "  Chamois  " — and  we  have  in 
South  Africa  an  antelope  which  is  a  chamois  to 
all  intents  and  purposes,  but  which  is  called  a 
"  klipspringer."  Again, — the  tall,  heavy, 
sober-tinted  desert  bustard  is  called  the 
"  paauw,"  a  word  which  means  "  peacock." 
However,  these  names  are  so  firmly  fixed  in 
the  South  African  vocabulary  that  any  en- 
deavour to  change  them  would  be  a  hopeless 
task. 

We  trekked  south-east  from  Silverfontein 
in  the  spring  wagon,  behind  a  team  of  eight 
spanking  horses.  We  slept  at  Kamiebies, 
which  is  an  uncertain  water-place  a  few  miles 
over  the  edge  of  the  desert  and  a  short  day's 
journey  south  of  Gamoep.  During  the  day  we 
rested;  in  the  night  we  had  to  make  a  dash 
of  some  forty  miles  for  our  objective.  We 
meant  to  take  the  poachers  by  surprise, — to 
drop  on  them  just  at  daybreak,  as  though  from 
the  clouds.  So  in  the  mean  time  I  lazed 
through  the  long,  delicious  day. 

The  rains  had  not  alone  been  earlier  and 
heavier  than  usual,  but  they  had  fallen 
throughout  an  unusually  extensive  area.  The 
mountain  tract  was  ablaze  with  flowers;  even 
Bushmanland  stirred  in  its  aeon-old  sleep,  for 
the  skirts  of  the  last  rain-cloud  had  trailed 


232  LODGES   IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

well  over  its  borders,  and  the  latent  life  of  the 
waste  had  leaped,  responsive,  to  the  surface. 
Now  a  whole  flora  that  had  slept  for  years  in 
tubers  and  dry  stalks  sent  forth  blossoms  in 
million-fold  rivalry  to  attract  the  replete, 
drowsy  insects. 

Here,  from  a  dense,  thorny,  involuted  mass 
of  gnarled,  shapeless  stems  that  must  have 
been  many  centuries  old,  arose  the  delicate, 
fairy-like  petals  of  a  scented  pelargonium. 
The  corolla  was  snow-white,  except  for  a 
minute,  sagittate  marking  of  bright  cerise  on 
the  lower  lip.  If  you  had  examined  ten  thou- 
sand of  these  flowers  you  would  not  have 
found  one  in  which  that  little  mark  varied  to 
the  extent  of  the  ten-thousandth  part  of  an 
inch.  The  thought  of  which  that  blossom  was 
the  manifestation — the  afterthought  of  which 
the  tiny  cerise  arrowhead  was  the  expression — 
dwelt  down  in  the  unlovely  labyrinth  of  the 
monstrous  stems,  and  had  been  adhered  to 
with  steady  persistence  through  successions  of 
long  arid-year  periods.  It  was  whispered  to 
the  silk-winged  seed  from  which  that  hoary 
patriarch  had  birth, — perhaps  when  Alaric  was 
thundering  at  the  gates  of  Rome.  And  it 
would  be  as  unerringly  transmitted  to 
blossoms  making  sweet  the  breeze  in  days 


THE  GARDEN  OF  THE  DESERT    233 

when  men  will  hold  this  generation  to  be  as 
remote  as  we  hold  the  dwellers  of  the  Solutre 
Cavern. 

There  swayed  a  slender  heliophila — the 
modest  sunlover  who,  in  the  course  of  age- 
long, patient  vigils,  had  drawn  down  and  en- 
snared the  hue  of  the  desert  sky  in  her  petals. 
Far  and  near  the  plain  was  starred  with 
beauty.  The  small,  inornate,  thirst-land 
butterflies  had  ventured  out  from  the  hills; 
they  flitted  to  and  fro,  lazy  and  listless.  They 
sported  with  Amaryllis  in  the  sunshine  and 
then  tried  to  flirt  shamelessly  with  Iris,  the  shy 
maiden  on  the  nodding,  hair-like  stem — who 
veiled  her  visage  in  sober  brown  by  day,  but 
revealed  it,  white  and  eager  to  the  stars  whilst 
she  made  the  wings  of  the  night-wind  faint 
with  perfume. 

An  oval  shrub  attracted  one's  attention — not 
through  its  beauty,  but  because  it  was  an 
object  startling  and  bizarre.  It  looked  as 
though  covered  with  rags  of  various  tints. 
This  was  that  criminal  among  vegetables — the 
Roridula.  A  close  inspection  almost  filled  one 
with  horror;  the  plant  was  like  a  shambles. 
The  leaves  resembled  toothed  traps;  in  most 
of  them  insects  were  tightly  gripped.  After 
these  had  been  sucked  dry, — drained  of  blood 


234  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 
and  of  every  vestige  of  bodily  juices,  the 
leaves  opened,  dropped  the  mangled  and  des- 
sicated  frames  to  the  ground  and  cynically 
opened  their  fell  jaws  for  more  victims. 
Undeterred  by  the  litter  of  corpses  that  cum- 
bered the  surrounding  ground,  other  insects 
crowded  in  to  taste  of  the  viscid  juice  which 
the  leaves  exuded.  This  was  the  bait  tempt- 
ing to  their  doom  moths,  butterflies,  beetles 
and  other  minor  fauna.  Here  was  Capitalism 
playing  on  the  greed  and  credulity  of  the 
crowd, — gorging  on  the  life-blood  of  its  hap- 
less dupes, — flourishing  and  waxing  strong 
amid  the  ruin  of  its  countless  victims. 

My  eye  was  caught  by  a  quivering  twig;  on 
it  was  a  chameleon.  The  reptile  was  nearly 
nine  inches  long.  His  colour  was  brown,  of  a 
shade  exactly  the  same  as  that  of  the  twig.  He 
moved  forward  with  slow,  hesitating  steps; 
he  paced  like  an  amateur  on  the  tight-rope,  as 
though  afraid  of  falling.  His  swivel  eye- 
cases,  each  with  a  tiny,  diamond-bright  speck 
in  the  centre,  moved  about  independently  of 
each  other.  One  was  focussed  on  a  little  green 
insect  waving  its  antennae  on  a  leaf  six  inches 
in  front  of  him ;  the  other  was  carefully  trained 
backwards  over  his  left  shoulder  at  me.  Flick 
— and  his  tongue  shot  out  and  in  so  rapidly 


THE  CHAMELEON  235 

that  the  eye  could  hardly  follow  its  motion. 
But  the  insect  was  no  longer  on  the  leaf,  and 
the  chameleon  was  munching  something  with 
solemn  enjoyment.  When  night  fell  he  would 
climb  to  the  top  of  a  strong,  dry  twig,  roll  and 
tuck  himself  into  the  shape  of  a  pear,  with  his 
head  in  the  centre  of  the  bulge.  Then  he 
would  change  his  hue  to  white  and  open  his 
mouth,  which  was  bright  orange  internally. 
The  night-flying  lepidoptera  would  take  him 
for  a  white,  yellow-centred  flower,  and  pop  in, 
seeking  nectar.  But  they  would  not  pop  out 
again. 

And  the  greatest  wonder  of  all, — I  bent 
down  to  examine  a  gazania;  its  inch-long 
golden  rays  expanded  like  a  wheel  of  perfect 
symmetry.  Just  where  the  ray  bent  over  the 
edge  of  the  green,  fleshy  cup  in  which  the 
myriad  florets  were  nested,  was  a  small,  dark 
spot.  I  brought  a  simple  magnifying  glass  to 
bear  on  this, — and  what  did  I  see?  A 
labyrinthine  crater  of  many-coloured  fire 
opened.  Curve  melted  and  mingled  into  re- 
luctant curve,  zone  into  rainbow  zone,  until  the 
plummet  of  vision  was  lost  in  the  radiant 
abyss.  I  lifted  the  flower  gently;  its  texture 
was  thinner  than  the  thinnest  paper;  beneath 
it  was  the  desert  sand.  It  had  hardly  any 


236  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

material  thickness,  yet  infinity  lay  in  its  depths. 
I  sought  for  a  gazania  of  another  species  and 
found  its  petals  eyed  like  the  peacock's  tail. 
Yet  another, — it  shewed  the  rose-ardours  of 
dawn  contending  with  the  purple  of  a  sea  on 
whose  surface  night  still  brooded.  Every 
species  had  its  own  colour-scheme — its  maze 
of  splendour  more  intricate  than  the  labyrinth 
of  King  Minos. 

Old  Mr.  Von  Schlicht  of  Klipfontein — who 
had  spent  most  of  his  life  in  Namaqualand, 
had  recently  been  endeavouring  to  recall  for 
me  details  of  the  desert  journeys  of  Ecklon 
and  Drege,  who  did  so  much  for  South  African 
botany.  I  ascertained  that  Ecklon  visited 
Kamiebies.  How  his  heart  must  have  leaped 
when  his  eyes  first  gathered  in  the  winter  glory 
of  those  mountains.  When  he  afterwards 
stood,  begging  his  bread  at  the  corner  of  the 
Heerengracht,  Cape  Town, — did  he  ever  re- 
call that  scene?  Strange  world  of  men  that 
so  often  lets  its  noblest,  after  lives  of  heroic 
toil  for  the  highest  and  most  unselfish  ends, 
die  in  the  gutter — if  it  does  not  more  mercifully 
slay  them — and  pays  tribute  of  corn,  wine  and 
oil,  of  jewels  and  fine  raiment,  to  the  company- 
monger  or  other  chartered  robber  adroit  enough 
to  squeeze  through  the  meshes  of  the  law. 


THE  POACHERS  CAUGHT      237 

We  inspanned  at  sunset,  and  plunged 
straight  into  the  desert,  travelling  slightly  to 
the  south  of  east.  Our  objective  was  lower 
Pof  Adder — which  must  not  be  confounded 
with  the  northern  Pof  Adder  beyond  Namies. 
We  were  out  of  the  region  of  "  toa  " ;  the  plain 
was  covered  with  small  shrub, — half  of  which 
were  soft  and  succulent  and  the  others  hard 
and  thorny.  There  were  no  intermediate 
kinds ;  the  desert  is  a  region  of  extremes. 

In  spite  of  the  jolting  I  managed  to  get  a 
few  hours'  sleep.  We  outspanned  for  an  hour 
at  midnight  and  made  coffee.  Now  we  had 
some  heavy  sand-tracts  to  cross, — with  jolty 
stretches  lying  between  them.  But  we  reached 
the  camp  of  the  half-breeds  just  at  dawn,  as 
had  been  intended. 

They  were  caught — if  not  exactly  red- 
handed,  yet  with  ample  proof  of  their  guilt. 
In  the  mat-houses  of  the  suspected  men  we 
found  boxes  and  bags  packed  full  of  feathers. 
These  were  of  all  kinds — from  the  long  white 
plumes  and  the  short  blacks  of  the  male  bird, 
to  the  browns  of  the  hens  and  chicks.  The 
culprits  pleaded  guilty;  retributive  justice  was 
forthwith  satisfied  at  the  wagon-wheel. 

The  camp  was  quite  a  large  one;  I  should 
say  it  contained  over  sixty  souls,  men,  women 


238  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

and  children  included.  These  people  were  all 
of  the  same  colour,  light  yellow;  they  even 
seemed  to  shew  signs  of  type-inception. 
Lean,  sinewy  and  tough,  they  were  not  beauti- 
ful either  in  form  or  feature.  In  neither  sex 
did  the  sallow  skin  give  any  hint  of  blood 
beneath.  However,  anaemic  as  they  were, 
whatever  fluid  circulated  in  their  arteries  must 
have  been  of  good  quality,  for  their  capacity 
for  physical  endurance  was  considerable. 

It  was  the  eyes  of  those  half-breeds  that 
were  most  distinctive.  These  were  dusky  and 
deep,  with  an  expression — not  exactly  furtive  j 
rather  expressive  of  haunting  apprehension. 
This  was  hardly  to  be  wondered  at,  for  they 
had  ceaselessly  to  watch  for  every  change  in 
the  desert's  pitiless  visage — to  note  each 
alteration  in  the  moods  of  earth  and  sky. 
Their  lives  were  spent  in  answering  a  succes- 
sion of  riddles  propounded  by  the  terrible 
sphinx  between  whose  taloned  paws  they  ex- 
isted as  playthings. 

Their  dwellings — ordinary  mat-houses  and 
ramshackle  wagons — as  well  as  the  furniture 
thereof,  indicated  that  they  must  have  become 
habituated  to  extremes  of  heat  and  cold. 
They  were  cleanly  in  their  persons;  this  I 
knew  through  having  vaccinated  them  all, — 


THE  HALF-BREEDS  239 

from  the  patriarch  to  the  youngest  baby. 
Small-pox  at  the  time  was  reported  to  be 
raging  among  the  Bondleswartz  Tribe,  just 
beyond  the  Orange  River. 

But  these  people  can  never  develop  a  type 
that  will  persist;  the  desert  they  inhabit  is  too 
small.  Besides,  their  sons  and  daughters  are 
continually  being  enticed  away  to  regions  with 
a  kinder  soil  and  a  less  severe  climate.  There 
they  further  complicate  the  South  African  race 
question.  This  question  will  not  be  confined 
to  South  Africa;  it  will  soon  be  one  of  world- 
wide import,  and  one  that  is  not  necessarily  to 
be  answered  in  favour  of  the  Caucasian,  whose 
birth-rate  statistics  read  like  Mene  Tekel.  I 
am  often  inclined  to  think  it  would  have  been 
better  in  the  long  run  had  Charles  Martel  lost 
the  Battle  of  Tours.  In  that  case  there  would 
at  all  events  have  been  no  colour  question. 

But  those  deep,  dusky  eyes  haunted  me. 
They  were  as  enigmatic  as  the  only  landscape 
over  which  they  ranged.  If  one  could  only 
have  stripped  the  scales  from  them,  what  won- 
ders might  they  not  have  seen?  Incalculable 
potencies  might  have  been  in  their  depths. 
Others,  desert-bred,  have  caught  glimpses  of 
eternal  verities  which  prompted  them  to  utter 
words  that  became  the  hinges  of  history. 


240  LODGES   IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

However,  up  to  the  present,  there  is  no  sign 
of  a  prophet  arising  in  Bushmanland  with  a 
message  for  a  land  that  sorely  needs  it. 

The  half-breeds  had  heard  of  the  spring- 
buck; a  few  days  previously  the  latter  were 
credibly  reported  to  be  somewhere  about 
thirty  miles  to  the  northward,  near  Kat  Vley. 
And  we  were  assured  of  the  almost  incredible 
fact  that  Kat  Vley  contained  water.  That  was 
certainly  an  annus  mirabilis  in  the  desert. 

At  mid-day  we  took  our  departure,  making 
for  the  vicinity  where  the  springbuck  were  said 
to  be.  In  the  afternoon  dense  clouds  rolled 
up  from  the  south-westward  and  a  deluge  of 
hail  struck  us.  Within  the  memory  of  men  no 
similar  thing  had  happened  in  Bushmanland. 
Andries  and  I  were  comfortable  enough  in  the 
wagon;  Hendrick  and  Piet  Noona  fixed  a  sail 
to  the  windward  wheels  and  lit  a  big  candle- 
bush  fire  to  leeward.  After  travelling  about 
twenty  miles  we  had  camped  for  the  night,  for 
the  hail-clouds  had  been  rolling  up  at  intervals 
of  about  half  an  hour,  and  there  appeared  to 
be  no  likelihood  of  the  weather  clearing.  The 
poor  horses, — they  were  in  for  a  time  of 
misery ! 

Morning  broke  with  drifting  clouds  and  a 
high  wind  from  the  south-west.  .We  in- 


HAIL  STORMS  241 

spanned  and  altered  our  course  slightly  to  the 
westward.  The  hail-showers  had  been  so 
heavy  that  all  spoor  was  obliterated;  accord- 
ingly we  could  not  tell  whether  game  was 
about  or  not.  The  day  was  bitterly  cold ;  over 
and  over  again  the  hail  showers  recurred. 
Several  times  we  got  so  perished  that  we 
halted  and  lit  fires  of  candle-bush  just  to  thaw 
our  hands  at.  Night  fell  with  a  slight  im- 
provement in  the  weather;  the  wind  dropped 
and  only  a  thin  drizzle  was  falling.  We 
camped  again  and  gave  the  horses  a  liberal 
feed  of  corn.  They  did  not  appear  to  suffer 
much  from  the  cold.  Such  weather  was  the 
very  last  thing  one  could  have  expected.  But 
surely  the  sky  would  be  clear  on  the  morrow. 

Again  a  cloudy  morning,  but  the  clouds 
were  high  and  there  was  no  rain.  At  last  we 
saw  signs  of  game,  for  we  crossed  the  spoor 
of  several  small  troops  of  springbuck;  these 
had  apparently  been  making  in  the  direction 
of  Kamiebies.  Later  we  found  more  spoor — 
that  of  a  really  considerable  herd  making  due 
westward. 

The  desert  here  was  not  quite  so  flat  as 
usual;  the  brown  expanse  undulated  in  long, 
low  ridges  running  parallel  to  our  course. 
These  were  often  several  miles  apart  and  in 


242  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

the  spaces  between,  narrow  sand-dunes,  flat- 
topped  and  steep,  extended  indefinitely,  east 
and  west.  At  about  three  in  the  afternoon  we 
again  struck  spoor.  It  was  apparently  that  of 
the  large  herd  whose  track  we  had  crossed  a 
few  hours  previously.  Now  it  led  north-east, 
straight  over  the  dune  about  a  mile  away  on 
our  right — the  dune  parallel  to  which  we  had 
been  travelling  for  upwards  of  an  hour.  The 
spoor  was  quite  fresh;  it  could  not  have  been 
more  than  half  an  hour  since  the  herd  had 
passed. 

We  halted  and  outspanned.  After  the 
horses  had  indulged  in  a  roll  Andries  and  I 
saddled  up.  We  rode  on  the  spoor;  soon  this 
led  us  almost  due  north,  straight  to  the  dune, 
which  it  crossed  at  right  angles.  The  herd 
had  evidently  been  stampeded;  it  was  clear 
they  had  been  at  a  run  when  they  passed. 
Their  hoofs  had  struck  deep  into  the  wet  soil 
and  there  was  a  distinct  series  of  wide  gaps  in 
the  dune  where  the  crossing  had  been  effected. 
We  dismounted  and  clambered  up  the  steep 
sand-slope.  We  looked  carefully  over,  being 
heedful  not  to  reveal  ourselves.  The  plain 
before  us  lay  empty,  but  about  a  mile  to  the 
right  the  herd  of  springbuck  were  visible.  It 
Was  evidently  one  of  the  flying  patrols  of  the 


THE  TREK  SEASON  243 

great  migratory  army  and  apparently  num- 
bered from  eight  to  nine  thousand  head. 

We  remounted  and  cantered  along  close 
to  the  base  of  the  dune  until  we  were  abreast 
of  the  centre  of  the  herd — only  the  dune 
separating  us  from  it.  Here  Andries  re- 
mained, while  I  rode  on  for  about  half  a  mile 
further.  This  brought  me  to  a  spot  just  ahead 
of  the  foremost  of  the  game.  It  had  been 
agreed  that  when  I  reached  this  spot  Andries 
would  cross  the  dune  and  open  his  attack.  As 
soon  as  the  herd  was  on  the  move,  I  would 
begin  mine. 

I  dismounted,  tied  old  Prince  to  a  shrub, 
climbed  the  dune  and  laid  myself  flat  on  the 
top.  Just  to  my  left  were  the  springbuck, 
grazing  quietly  and  utterly  unsuspicious  of 
danger.  They  appeared  to  be  all  rams.  This 
we  expected,  for  most  of  the  rams  congregate 
in  separate  herds  in  the  trek  season.  Some 
were  grazing  within  less  than  two  hundred 
yards  of  me. 

When  Andries'  rifle  spoke  a  thrill  ran 
through  the  multitude.  Looking  to  the  left 
I  saw  the  bucks  beginning  to  stream  in  my 
direction,  but  the  impulse  had  not  yet  been 
communicated  to  those  at  my  end  of  the  herd. 
Rythmically  the  impetus  of  flight  developed 


244  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

towards  me.  Now  all  were  on  the  move.  I 
fired  and  a  buck  rolled  over.  Then  I  de- 
scended from  the  dune  and  ran  forward  into 
the  plain. 

The  herd  was  now  streaming  past  me  from 
the  direction  in  which  the  knell  of  Andries' 
regular  bombardment  sounded.  The  dense 
stream  bent  in  its  course  before  my  advance, 
and  for  a  few  minutes  took  the  form  of  a  cres- 
cent at  a  distance  of  about  four  hundred  yards. 
It  was  as  though  I  were  firing  at  a  wall.  Once 
I  got  my  range  nearly  every  bullet  thudded. 
Soon  the  last  of  the  stream  flowed  past,  but  its 
course  for  several  hundred  yards  was  marked 
by  prone  white  and  fawn  forms. 

Andries  was  busy  collecting  his  dead  at  a 
spot  about  eight  hundred  yards  away.  I  re- 
crossed  the  dune  and  led  Prince  over  it  at  a 
flounder.  Soon  Andries  came  cantering  up, 
his  hands  and  arms  red  with  the  blood  of  the 
slain.  He  had  killed  eight  bucks.  I  had  had 
better  chances  and  a  longer  innings,  so  my 
bag  was  larger,  but  I  did  not  as  yet  know  to 
what  extent. 

The  sun  was  now  almost  down;  my  spoil 
was  scattered  over  a  large  area.  It  was  de- 
cided that  I  should  gather  up  my  dead,  load 
the  carcases  upon  Prince  and  convey  them  to 


A  GOOD  BAG  245 

where  Andries  had  piled  his.  He  started  off 
to  fetch  the  wagon.  The  team  would  now 
number  only  six,  but  the  wagon  was  light,  for 
the  horses  had  consumed  most  of  the  grain. 
I  loaded  up  three  carcases  and  deposited  them 
on  the  heap  formed  by  those  of  Andries.  An- 
other load  of  three  I  also  fetched.  But  night 
was  rapidly  falling  so  I  could  only  negotiate 
one  more  load.  This  time  I  piled  up  four. 
When  I  reached  the  carcases  depot  there  was 
little  or  no  light.  However,  as  long  as  it  was 
possible  to  see  what  I  was  doing,  I  collected 
candle-bushes.  The  result,  however,  was 
lamentably  meagre. 

The  wagon  was  only  about  four  miles  away 
— as  the  crow  flies.  But  unfortunately  the 
wagon  was  not  a  crow — and  goodness  only 
knew  how  far  westward  that  wretched  dune 
extended.  However,  even  if  it  reached  to 
Gamoep  Andries  would  have  to  keep  on  its 
southern  flank  until  he  rounded  the  extremity. 
I  began  to  feel  miserably  cold,  for  I  had  no 
jacket.  To  complete  my  misery  the  sky  again 
clouded  over  and  a  thin  rain  commenced  to 
fall. 

I  tied  old  Prince  to  a  bush  and  removed  his 
saddle.  But  means  of  the  latter  I  should,  at 
all  events,  be  able  to  protect  my  neck  and 


246  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

shoulders  from  the  wet.  Then  I  sat  on  the 
ground  among  the  carcases  and  piled  them 
around  me;  only  my  head  emerged  from  the 
mass.  The  whole  lot,  numbering  eighteen, 
were  requisitioned  for  this  unusual  service. 
The  water  trickled  in  but  the  dead  bucks  still 
retained  some  heat  and  for  a  time  I  was  fairly 
comfortable. 

But  as  the  hours  passed  the  carcases  grew 
cold  and  colder;  my  misery  became  acute. 
The  night  was  pitch  black.  I  had  enough 
candle-bush  to  make  a  flare  for  about  half-an- 
hour,  but  prudence  prompted  me  to  delay  this 
operation  so  as  to  give  Andries  time  to  get 
round  the  extremity  of  the  dune — wherever 
that  might  be.  I  fired  my  rifle  occasionally, 
but  the  wind  was  blowing  steadily  and  An- 
dries' course  was  down  to  windward. 

At  length,  after  a  seemingly  interminable 
period  of  wretchedness,  I  lit  my  candle-bush 
flares  one  by  one.  They  blazed  brightly  and 
gave  out  a  certain  amount  of  grateful  heat,  but 
soon  they  came  to  an  end,  and  I  stole  back  to 
my  sepulchre  among  the  now  stone-cold  car- 
cases. 

The  steady  rain  trickled  down;  I  was  by 
this  time  wet  through.  I  wondered  as  to 
whether  I  would  be  able  to  endure  the  misery 


THE  WAGON  AT  LAST        247 

until  morning.  I  had  quite  made  up  my  mind 
that  Andries  would  not  be  able  to  find  me. 
The  night  was  too  black;  there  were  no  hills 
nor  other  salient  landmarks  to  guide  him  to 
the  spot.  Looking  to  westward  before  we 
started  I  could  see  that  the  dune  was  full  of 
forks  and  branches  in  that  direction.  I  tried 
to  comfort  myself  with  anticipation  of  the 
enormous  candle-bush  fire  I  would  make  as 
soon  as  day  broke,  and  the  breakfast  of  broiled 
springbuck  liver  I  would  consume.  My 
matches  were  safe  in  a  waterproof  pouch. 
How  leaden-footed  is  time  when  one  is  miser- 
able! 

An  earth-tremor ;  a  telephone-message  thrill- 
ing along  the  earth's  sensitive  surface — telling 
of  hoofs  and  wheels  in  rythmic  motion.  Had 
the  miracle  happened?  Yes, — the  wagon 
rolled  up  and  my  martyrdom  was  at  an  end. 
Deo  gr alias  \ 

But  how  did  Andries  manage  it?  He  heard 
no  shot,  he  saw  none  of  my  flares.  He  could 
not  tell  me;  as  a  matter  of  fact  he,  himself, 
did  not  know.  His  feat  could  only  be  ex- 
plained through  some  theory  of  unconscious 
cerebration.  Andries  was  elderly,  stout  and 
somewhat  lethargic,  he  had  never  read  any 
book  but  the  Bible,  and  of  that  there  was  quite 


248  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

a  lot  he  did  not  understand.  But  the  track- 
less desert  was  to  him  as  familiar  as  my  study 
was  to  me,  and  he  had  been  able  to  pilot  his 
wagon-ship  straight  to  that  spot — through  the 
inky  darkness — with  as  little  uncertainty  as 
though  the  sun  had  been  shining.  The  experi- 
ence of  a  lifetime  would  not  have  taught  me 
to  perform  that  marvel  which  Andries  did 
quite  as  a  matter  of  course. 


L'ENVOI 

MY  eyes  have  gazed  their  last  upon 
the  face  of  the  desert.  Although  I 
love  her  still, — although  the  memory 
of  her  burning  ardour,  her  splendid  indiffer- 
ence and  her  wealth  of  illusive  charm  is  my 
abiding  and  most  valued  possession,  we  shall 
meet  no  more.  She  is  not  a  mistress  to  be 
lightly  courted.  As  Brunhild  slew  Siegfried 
so  would  the  Desert  inevitably  slay  one  who 
remained  her  lover  after  desire  had  outlasted 
strength.  Her  lioness-like  caresses  are  not  for 
those  whose  blood  slows  down  as  it  nears  the 
ocean  of  eternal  silence — even  as  the  force  and 
fury  of  the  Gariep  sink  to  tranquillity  when  the 
mighty  stream  nears  the  Atlantic — and  ex- 
tinction. 

Good-bye,  Andries, — best  of  comrades.  I 
have  not  told  of  all  our  adventures — of  how 
we  pursued  the  springbuck  at  full  gallop 
across  the  trackless  plains  in  your  springless, 
home-made  rattletrap,  behind  four  wild,  half- 
trained  horses, — until  we  were  black  and  blue. 


250  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

I  have  not  told  of  how  we  were  lured  by  men 
who  desired  our  death  to  a  spot  sixty  miles 
deep  in  the  waste,  and  of  how  we  had  to 
struggle  back  again  in  the  burning  heat  be- 
cause we  found  the  promised  water  to  be  brine, 
and  the  edges  of  the  pools  containing  it 
thickly  caked  with  salt.  I  have  not  told  of 
your  consistent  unselfishness  in  giving  me  the 
best  chances  in  the  matter  of  shooting,  nor  of 
how  generously  you  placed  the  riches  of  your 
desert  lore  at  my  disposal. 

The  world  for  us  is  not  the  same  as  it  was — 
even  a  few  years  ago,  for  at  our  time  of  life  a 
very  few  years  make  a  considerable  difference 
where  physical  endurance  is  concerned.  Al- 
though on  the  verge  of  middle  life  we  could 
still,  in  the  days  I  have  told  of,  gallop  ten 
miles  at  a  stretch  and  hold  a  rifle  straight  at 
the  end  of  the  race — we  could  endure  thirst, 
hunger  and  fatigue  without  wilting. 

In  the  matter  of  shooting  I  am,  perhaps, 
like  the  reformed  rake  who  coined  virtue  out  of 
inability  further  to  sin.  Nevertheless,  I  could 
no  longer  take  pleasure  in  slaughtering  the 
few  of  Nature's  lovely  wild  creatures  that  sur- 
vive our  cruelly  scientific  machines  of  preci- 
sion. It  is  true  my  eyesight  is  not  quite  what 
it  was.  To  what  extent  this  circumstance 


GOOD-BYE,  HENDRICK        251 

should  be  reckoned  as  a  factor  towards  my 
abstention,  I  will  not  attempt  to  say. 

We  shall  soon  be  old,  you  and  I ;  in  fact  it  is 
almost  stretching  a  point  to  call  ourselves  still 
only  middle-aged.  We  are  just  a  couple  of  in- 
effective veterans  who  can  only  draw  comfort 
from  the  bank  of  our  experiences.  Aber  "  wir 
haben  geloebt  und  geliebet" 

Good-bye,  Hendrick.  No  more  will  your 
keen  and  faithful  eyes  hold  my  vagrant  spoor 
over  sand  and  kanya.  No  more  shall  I  see  your 
bullet-shaped,  pepper-corned  head  with  its 
oblique  eyes  and  gleaming  teeth  arising  un- 
expectedly from  among  the  tussocks.  For  all 
I  know  you  may  have  saved  me  from  a  dread- 
ful death.  I  can  recall  at  least  one  occasion 
on  which  I  was  positively  sure  you  were  wrong 
in  your  idea  as  to  the  direction  in  which  the 
camp  lay, — yet  the  event  proved  you  to  be 
right.  Had  I  then  been  alone,  my  bones 
might  now  be  lying  white  in  the  heart  of  Bush- 
manland. 

And  you,  Typhon, — I  suppose  you  have 
awakened  to  wrath — that  your  hunched  shoul- 
ders have  heaved  many  times  since  that  day 
on  which  my  awed  eyes  beheld  your  russet 
mane  flung  streaming  southward  on  the  tem- 
pest,— I  suppose  your  impotent  tentacles  still 


252  LODGES  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

strive  to  gather  up  the  plains  into  their  blight- 
ing grip. 

Sometimes,  when  the  firmament  is  very  clear 
and  the  fingers  of  the  wind  stray  gently 
through  the  tresses  of  the  night,  I  lift  my  eyes 
to  the  familiar  stars  and  realise  that  again  the 
sky  has.  gathered  the  throbbing  desert  to  its 
breast  and  covered  Bushmanland  with  the 
folds  of  its  purple  mantle.  It  is  then  I  unlock 
my  storehouse  of  dreams  and  live  once  more 
through  vanished  days  of  strenuous  effort  and 
nights  of  wonderful  mystery. 


THE  END 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A    000  254  976    4 


